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<g^%UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.^ M 

§ 9-167 e^ix; 



X 



HAMILTON; 






OTHER POEMS, 



BY WILLIAM A. STEPHENS, 



TORONTO : 

ROGERS AND THOMPSON* PRIMERS, 

1840. 



; JT473 

S?7 



i4B 




TO 

JAMES BUCHANAN, ESQ. 
3>er iSlajcstg's Consul at Nrin Yortt 

My dear Sir, 

As I know of no one who has felt more 
solicitude for the prosperity of Canada, an J but few 
who have done so much practically to promote it, par- 
ticularly by the successful encouragement of immigra- 
tion, and as you were long the valued friend of my late 
father, I know of none to whom the following work 
may with more propriety be dedicated by his son. who 
has the honor to be, with great respect. 
Dear Sir, 

Your most obedient 

Friend and Servant, 

THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



If the readers of the present work wish to 
know anything of its history or its author, — I 
came in the days of early boyhood to this pro- 
vince, with my father and family, who had re- 
solved upon encountering the forests of Canada, 
since which time I have been principally em- 
ployed in assisting to hew and burn a farm from 
out the wilderness, and in cultivating it after it 
had been cleared, a situation (it will be readily 
confessed) not the most favorable in the world 
for literary improvement. Indeed, almost the 
whole of the present volume has been composed 
while employed in the business of the farm, and 
during the usual intervals of relaxation. 



PREFACE. 



As to the smaller pieces, they have been 
composed at different periods, from the age of 
eighteen till the present time, several of which 
have been printed before in some of our Cana- 
dian periodicals. 

The history of the principal poem is simply 
this : last summer I was on a jury at Hamilton, 
and one evening, while taking tea at the house 
of a female friend, I was speaking in high terms 
of the view from the top of the mountain, when 
she intimated that I ought to write a description 
of what J so much admired. The next day, 
while in conversation with a gentleman of my 
acquaintance, I asked him if he had ever seen a 
description of Hamilton ; he replied that he had 
seen two, both of which were in prose, but he 
added, to have a proper effect it should be done 
in poetry. I took the hint — the next morning I 
visited the mountain at sunrise ; it was a glorious 
morning in June, and, with a soul glowing with 
enthusiasm, I commenced the poem. 



PREFACE. 



At first I intended it only for the columns of a 
newspaper or magazine — indeed, I did not think 
that I could have sustained an effort through a 
poem of any importance; but when I found that 
my muse was resolved upon a longer flight, I 
gave her freedom of wing and she has produced 
a volume. 

Some months ago, I sent an extract from the 
principal poem (a description of the steam-boat) 
to New York, which was published in the Emi- 
grant and Old Countryman of the ?0th of Octo- 
ber, and it had the effect of eliciting the first and 
only editorial approbation my poetry has ever 
received. The Editor observed, "'We conceive 
there is both original thinking and much poetic 
feeling in this effort, and we believe that here are 
exhibited promises of future excellence in the 
world of poesy. 5 ' 

I shall of course feel much gratified, if the 
Editor of that paper finds by the perusal of the 



Vlll PREFACE. 

present volume, that those promises are in any 
measure fulfilled. 

To the friends from whom I have received 
encouragement during the progress of the pre- 
sent work, and to the gentlemen of the press, 
who have copied my prospectus and advertise- 
ment, I feel grateful ; and I hope that some of 
those who have refused to subscribe, when they 
obtain a further knowledge of the work, will be 
induced to purchase it. 

If this volume is favorably received, I shall 
probably at some future period solicit a renewal 
of that favor: and in the meantime I have the 
honor to be, to the public and more particularly 
to my subscribers, 

Their most obedient 

Humble servant, 

WILLIAM A. STEPHENS. 

Esquesing, Feb. 1840. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 



Hamitox : 






Book I. - 




13 


Book II. - - 


39 


Book III. .... 




69 


Book IV, 


. 


91 


The Infant Wanderer 




125 


Perseverance 


. 


134 


On the death of the Author's Father - 




136 


Stanzas to the Memory of a Sister 


- 


138 


Upon Sacred Music 




140 


Stanzas - - - 


. 


142 


To a Friend on his Wedding - 




143 


To the Hamilton Garland - 


- 


145 


Two Descriptions of Love 




147 


The Fairy and the Dew Drop 


- 


149 


To 




150 
153 


Lines written in a Ladv's Album * 


= 


A Morning Reverie 




156. 



X CONTENTS. 

Page 

To a Young Friend - . - - 160 

An Epigram ----- 162 

To Fanny - . - - - 163 

An Acrostic e - - - - 164 

The Tide of Love - . - - 3 65 

A Roundslay ----- 170 
To Mrs. Ransom of Sireetsviile, on the death 

of a child - . - - 172 

To Dona Julia - - - 173 

My Birth Place - - - - 176 

Notes to Hamilton - - - - 177 



HAMILTON; 

BOOK I. 



ARGUMENT. 

Scene — The Mountain, above the Town. 

The opening cf the Poem— the glory of the landscape 
— the manner cf its creation— the appearance of the 
plants and animals as they rise into being — false deli- 
cacy reproved— the creation of Adam — Paradise lost 
and regained— an apology for wandering— an address 
to the muse— Homer — strictures on duelling — Lake 
Ontario in calm and in storm— the River St. Lawrence 
— source and course— return again of its waters through 
the medium of the clouds, by which is illustrated the 
wisdom and goodness of the Creator* 



HAMILTON: 



m © ® is Ho 



O, what a glorious sense is vision ! see unfurl' d 
The wondrous glories of our wx>n Lous world ! 
The eye is a Daguerreotype, whieh brings 
Within the soul all bright created things. 
Night has withdrawn her curtain westward far; 
Of all her empire not a single star 
Remains behind — Sol bursts upon the sight, 
And fills creation with his golden light : 
When God commanded — Let dry land appear ! 
Beauty and Grandeur both presided here ; 
They ask'd permission, which th' Eternal gave— - 
While plains and mountains rose above the wave, 
The mighty landscape which we now behold 
In glorious sublimity to mould, 

B 



14 

Methinks I see the wild waves roaring foam, 
All rushing down the mountains to their home, 
Where soon they settle to a mirror's calm, 
While into life the finny myriads swarm. 

As yet, the landscape all is bleak and bare — 
No! see the flow'rs are springing, fresh and fair, 
Throwing their new-born incense on the air ; 
New objects rise, delighting ev'ry sense- 
By magic is it 1 — No ! Omnipotence ! 
Now rise th ? ambitious forests' tow'ring high ? 
Bearing their leafy honors to the sky ; 
But on yon mountain's verge, of azure tinge, 
Dim distance sinks them to a verdant fringe. 
While all around, the humid mould is seen 
Changing its surface to a living green — 
But all that's made on mountain, vale or grove, 
Stands where it rose, and has no pow'r to move : 
Flow'rs, plants and forests stand where first they 

stood, 
When God created them and call'd them " good/' 



15 

Altho' the flowrets breathe their odors round, 
They have not pow'r to trip along the ground. 
But see — what's this 1 behold a wonder here — 
Yon shapeless mass has bounded off — a deer ! 
And see yon hillock move — behold it pant — 
It rises now a mighty elephant: 
And see yon piece of turf — aloft it springs 
To heav'n exulting on its new-born wings ; 
While all around, upstarting from the earth, 
Myriads of beings rise to sudden birth : 
While beasts, calFd savage, range thro' hill and 

glen,— 
Bears, wolves and tigers all were harmless then. 
God made them good, and tho' they never ate 
The Tree of Knowledge, yet it was their fate- — 
As man was monarch of each lower thing— 
That they, his subjects, all should suffer with 

their King 1 . 



There starts a cock — just as the rooster rose 
He clapped his wings — how cheerily he crows 



16 

— There are some squeamish ladies who think 

shame 
To give old chanticleer his proper name ! 
" To those who evil think let evil be," 
Was said by one of you, and so say we ; 
If "to the pure all things are pure," why then 
Your delicacy's false — I say again 
Your delicacy's false ! Not in the sounds 
But in the thought, impurity is found. 
For instance, if we speak of frosty hoar, 
Who thinks a w might be before ? 
You think of nothing but the dew of heaven 
Turn'd chrystal by the frigid breath of even ; 
So where's the use of such affected fluster ? 
Suppose we say cock, chanticleer or rooster : 
By this digression we have meant to free 
These ladies from their roosterology ! 
But to return, and leave this foolish foible, 
That reigns from Halifax to sultry Mobile. 



17 

Of all the creatures which around us rise, 
That walk the earth or wing them to the skies— 
Of ev'ry species there exists but one, 
All males as yet — of females there are none : 
And tho' they sport, and sing, or gambol round, 
No two in close companionship are found, 
But when the sun had left the glowing west, 
Tired of their gambolling they sink to rest, 
Buried at once in their first sleep profound, 
Perch'd on the trees, or crouch'd upon the 

ground, 
They all repose until the morning ray 
Proclaim'd the coming of the new-born day, 
Roused from their slumbers all these sleepers find 
With pleased surprise a comrade of their kind. 
They lay them down all singly in their lairs 
To sleep, alone, but now they rise in pairs : 
Beside- the fleecy ram starts up an ewe, 
Beside the antler'd buck a nimble doe ; 
And see, by warm unerring instinct drawn, 
Upon the lioness the lion fawn. 



18 

The cock's shrill clarion wakes a startled hen 
Before he clapp'd his wings to crow again ; 
From off the perch upon the ground she flew, 
The cock soon followed, eager to pursue, 
She looks behind her, half-inclined to stay, 
But tim'rous still, she flies and runs away ; 
He soon o'ertakes her, and with cackling fluster 
Tells her he's nothing but a harmless rooster : 
Tho' shy at first, she's won by his narration, 
And cackles forth her cordial approbation. 
Now for the first time feels he love and pride, 
And spreads his plumes to his admiring bride ; 
He cackles low, displays his golden wing, 
And struts around her in a circling ring : 
When sundry other shewy freaks are done, 
He claps his wings and sounds his clarion, 
That all the new-created world may hear 
The nuptial trumpet of plumed chanticleer. 



19 

Then Time was young — but now six thousand 
years 
Have roird in company with rolling spheres, 
Since God's first fiat — " Let there now be light !" 
Wide flash'd effulgence on chaotic night, 
Then "Let the light be gather'd," it was done, 
It flew to one bright point, andform'd a sun, 
Who rules, a king sublime — his realm is light, 
Girt by a wide circumference of night. 
And when the world — a glorious domain — 
Was finish'd all, there was no king to reign ; 
But soon a wondrous being rose to birth ; 
Part sprung from heav'n, but close allied to earth, 
His form material moulded from the clod, 
The intellectual part — the breath of God ! 
Amazing union this of mould and mind — 
God's image, form'd of clay, and calPd mankind ! 
While Adam sleeps, another form is cast — 
Hail, beauteous woman, loveliest and last ! 
Tho' man is monarch, yet he owns her sway, 
She best can rule, when willing to obey. 



20 

We shall not pause to weep o'er Adam's fall, 
Who sinn'd and would have fled Jehovah's call, 
Tho' Paradise was lost as soon as stain'd, 
There is a brighter Paradise regained ; 
The Second Adam, God, who was the Word, 
Achieved the triumph — David's Son and Lord ! 
For those who earnestly would wish to be 
Admitted here, faith is the only fee ; 
But some there are who think e'en Paradise 
Is little worth, if purchased without price ; 
Yet for the purchase, yes ! a price was paid, 
Worth more than ivorlds^ tho' 'gainst it worlds 

were weigh'd ! 
What was the purchase] 'twas a Saviour's blood ! 
Who was that Saviour, say ? the Son of God ! 
For man he did what man could ne'er have 

wrought ; 
To man he gava, what man could ne'er have 

bought, 
A glorious gift, an Eden in the skies, 
Accept it then, O fools ! and ye are wise. 



21 

But some, perhaps, there are who think my strain 

Is too religious; let them think again. 

For, though they may believe their thoughts are 

wise, 
Their wisdom is but folly in disguise, 
And for't I dare not e'en apologise. 

As light resum'd her empire in the sky, 
I wander'd here, intending to descry, 
And then describe the scenery around, 
The lofty mountain, and the deep profound ; 
The town, the bay, the woods, and table-land. 
With all that's seen, or beautiful or grand, 
But for my subjects I have wandered far, 
Thro' time and space, with chance my guiding 

star ; 
My muse capricious, oft on fitful wing, 
Flies where she pleases, or she will not sing; 
Like that bright bird in miniature whose song 
Lies in its wings, it briskly hums along, 



22 

Collecting sweets, it has no other aim, 

From flow'r to flow'r: my muse would do the 

same, 
O Muse ! what art thou 1 strange, mysterious 

sprite, 
Who first invoked thee from the realms of light 1 
What happy bard first waked the living lyre, 
Did he create thee, or didst thou inspire ? 
Wert thou the creature of his fancy, wrought 
To fullness by the fiat of his thought; 
Or did'st thou come to make thy being known, 
While intellectual glory round thee shone, 
The lyre thy sceptre, and the mind thy throne. 

Did'st thou illumine, in the olden time, 
The mind of Homer with thy light sublime, 
Who roll'd in majesty the tide of song, 
Bright'ning in glory as it rolls along, 
In heavenly harmony through distant years, 
Bright and immortal as revolving spheres? 



How many names were saved by Homer's lyre, 
From blank oblivion ! his poetic fire 
Ensbrin'd their mem'ries, and bequeath'd each 

name, 
An everlasting legacy to fame. 
Well I remember, 'twas in boyhood's hours, 
I read him first 'mid wild woods and wild flow'rs, 
Tending the oxen in the hours of noon, 
In brightest days of sunny May and June, 
When "Buck and Bright" were from the yoke 

releas'd 
To rest, and on the woodland herbage feast. 
There were no pasture fields, then all was new, 
But flow'rs and herbs in wild profusion grew ; 
Since then laborious, persevering toil 
Has clear'd the woods, and ploughshares turn'd 

the soil, 



24 

Upon a bank, thick strewn with wither'd 
leaves, 
Where Nature's hand the mossy carpet weave?, 
I oft reclined, with Iliad in hand, 
By forests shaded, and " by soft winds fann'd ;" 
The oxen browzing round, whose brazen bell, 
With noisy tongue, their whereabouts would tell. 

But heedless oft, I let them wander far, 
While Grecian heroes leap'd the lofty car, 
To thunder on thro' Ilion's glorious war ; 
Where hostile arm 'gainst hostile armour rings, 
Led on by Hector and the King of Kings. 
It seems but now, no power can Ilion save, 
Then back to Greece fierce rolls the struggling 

wave. 
Thus in alternate vict'ry and defeat, 
The Trojans now, and now the Greeks retreat, 
Till God-like Hector, prop of Ilion's walls, 
Meets fierce Achilles, and great Hector falls. 



Mellow'd by lapse okyears, and song sublime, 
The mind forgets that carnage is a crime ; 
That never yet the car of vict'ry roll'd, 
But blood of heroes stain'd the verdant mould ; 
That never yet the blast of war was blown, 
That was not echo'd by the widow's moan ; 
E'er since the reign of violence began, 
M War seems an instinct natural to man;" 
And not alone in war's embattled strife 
Has been the fearful waste of human life ; 
The dark assassin, and fierce private broils, 
Have glutted carnage with unnumber'd spoils, 
Ev'n Honour , with her sanguinary code, 
Besmear'd with blood, has o'er her victims strode, 
If this be Honour, fiend of bastard birth, 
We would that Honour banish'd were from 

earth. 
Honour, forsooth ! because an idle thought. 
In anger utter'd, with no meaning fraught, 
To call perhaps a friend to deadly strife, 
To lose your own or take another's life. 



Honour ! to cause a helpless orphan's cries, 

Rather than for that fault apologize. 

Strange honour this — to heal it's wounded pride 

By /wilful murder — foulest homicide. 

O moon-struck madmen ! desperate and rash, 

To heal a pimple make a hatchet's gash; 

To wipe a trifling stain from your attire, 

You cast it off, and tramp it in the mire. 

Your pride is wounded, O that it were slain, 
And then Religion would not speak in vain ; 
" Vengeance is mine," says God, " let man for- 
give, 
Who needs forgiveness ; let thy fellow live ! 
Ten thousand talents long thou owest me, 
Then let the hundred-pence offender free." 
But Custom contradicts the God of Heaven ! 
" Without his blood he must not be forgiven ;" 
And man obeys her, duellists will fight, 
'Till it is fashionable to do right ; 



27 

Then man may know (perhaps some ages hence) 

'Tis no disgrace to pardon an offence ; 

And that it is a greater crime to kill, 

Than to acknowledge he has acted ill: 

Better be called a coward than to be 

A murd'rer foul, dark-stained with infamy : 

'Till then he'll go to hell, an honour'd brave, 

Rathei>than meet the scoff of fool or knave ; 

He'll rather brave Jehovah's wrath and ban> 

Then bear the sneer and ridicule of man — 

And then, forsooth, these honorable fools 

Are quite exclusive in their tilting rules ; 

A gentleman must never kill, O no! 

In single fight aught but an equal foe ; 

The glorious style of chivalry must fall, 

Nobility, gentility and all, 

If to a 'plebeian any noble sot, 

Should give the privilege of being shot 

By his patrician bullet — how can scorn, 

Like this by poor plebeians e'er be borne ! 



28 

The sunbeams throw upon the waters bright 
A horizontal line of golden light, 
Ontario stretches to the eastward far, 
A mighty mirror, where each brilliant star 
Beholds its image far beneath the wave, 
Set in the mimic sub-marine concave ; 
But oft the mirror's face is wildly riv'n 
To shatter'd fragments by the winds of heav'n, 
When tempests leagued with thunder wildly 

roar, 
Resolved the deep's foundations to explore : 
This rough companionship of wind and fire 
Rouses the waters in tumultuous ire, 
Which roll to mountains, as they fiercely rise 
In foaming vengeance, to invade the skies ; 
While uproar wild, the attribute of storms, 
All air, and earth, and sea, and sky deforms ; 
But like contending chiefs of equal might, 
Nor this will yield nor that can gain the fight ; 
Tired of such equal, fierce, laborious strife, 
Yet fearing loss of honor more than life, 



29 

They both agree to leave tV unoonquer'd field, 

Both tacitly retreat though neither yield ; 

So do the jarring elements contend, 

Nor this can soar to heav'n, nor that descend 

Down to the deep ; but as the tempest first 

In booming fury on the billows burs". 

It first withdraws from oil the angry waves, 

And soon the sea less furiously raves. 

j > 

And now, forgetful of its billowy throes, 
It sleeps in calm, magnificent repose. 

Far in the boundless west and frozen north, 
The great St. Lawrence springs and rushes 

forth 
From mighty Lake Superior, fitting source 
Of our great river, whose impetuous course 
Sweeps through our northern world, 'till all hit 

vast 
Amount of tribute's in the ocean cast ; 
But many a resting place and transient home. 
He finds; ere mingling with the ocean's foam; 

c 2 



30 

In Huron first, and Michigan he pours, 
And calmly rests, or boisterously roars, 
Along their vast uncultivated shores. 

Not long he stays in beautiful St. Clair, 
But wanders through it, down to Erie, where 
He rests awhile, with added power to roll 
His billowy course, down to his billowy goal. 
But, hark ! what means his wild, tremendous 

roar, 
Yon rocky battlements he tumbles o'er ! 
His stream is broken, dislocated, smash'd, 
'Gainst ragged rocks to foaming fragments 

dash'd ! 
As o'er the wonder of our western world 
In wildest fury he's sublimely hurl'd ; 
Whose mighty, vast, interminable roar 
Ne'er ceased but when creation had no shore, 
When all the world was one unbounded wave, 
To all the world an overwhelming grave, 



31 

When nought above the universal sea 

Was seen but Noah's lone menagerie : 

Then ceased Niagara o'er the rocks to bound, 

And far beneath the waves his thunders all were 

drown'd. 
But ere he ceased, he swell'd ten thousand fold, 
Louder ten thousand times his thunders roil'd, 
Before the waters on Niagara backed 
The world was one wild roaring cataract, 
When ev'ry stripling streamlet clalm'd a right 
To bellow with a giant torrent's might; 
Each claim'd a town or city for its prey — 
Man and his works were wildly swept away. 
But hark ! amid its fierce conflicting roar, 
A still small voice— ' 'It shall be so no more !" 
From yonder angel of the rainbow form, 
Who smiles above the cataractine storm. 

A low'ring, soaring mount of foam is ever 
Seen rising o'er the dislocated river: 



32 

Oh what a gorgeous place for Neptune's throne ! 
Methinks, upon its undulating cone 
I see him now, where air and wave are blending, 
While Iris o'er his brow her diadem is bending! 

The river rages, roars and rushes on ; 
Now see him bellowing down the whirlpool gone, 
But soon he rises, flows, and spreads upon 
Ontario's bosom, where in calm repose 
He seems to rest, but still he onward flows 
In prouder majesty and mightier force, 
Bathing a thousand islands in his course, 
'Till Anticostl's coast his current laves, 
And mightier ocean drinks his mighty waves. 

All swallow'd by the rolling ocean brine, 
In depths where pearls in lonely glory shine, 
Where coral architects for ages past 
Have built their rocky mountains, huge and vast, 
With their own skeletons, in ocean's womb, 
Their birth-place, dwelling, monument and tomb, 



For ever buried there he seems to lie — 
What pow'r can change our river's destiny 1 
Two thousand miles he roll'd his rapid wave, 
Was it to find an everlasting grave ? 
It is not so — his buried stream shall rise 
On resurrection pinions to the skies, 
On wins;s of lisvht, invisible he'll soar 
Far, far beyond the angry ocean's roar ; 
His waters, changed to thin expanded steam, 
Now soar to heav'n upon the golden beam ; 
A bright infinity of thirsty rays 
Exhale the fluid in a misty haze, 
Which floats aloft at first a fleecy shroud, 
But soon increases to a denser cloud, 
'Till all the horizon is overcast. 
Except when broken by the fitful blast 
Which piles the clouds to vap'ry mountains vast, 
The river, changed to vapor, now is driven 
Along his airy aqueduct thro' heaven, 
Bearing the thunder in his cloudy breast, 
Like lions sleeping tranquilly at rest : 



34 

Bat if to touch him aught material dare, 
The startled monster flashes from his lair, 
And hurls destruction in one sudden flash 
On tree or steeple, or whatever so rash 
As rouse his an°:er, while his startling: flash 
Wakes all the slumb'ring thunderbolts that soar 
Among the clouds, which start with answ'ring 

roar, 
'Till all the vault of heav'n seems downward 

crashing, 
While o'er the ruins lightnings wild are flashing : 
From cloud to cloud the bellowing demons rage, 
9 Gainst all but chaos war they seem to wage. 
See yonder oak, to shattered splinters riven — 
They leaped upon it from the vault of heaven; 
'Gainst yonder dome with fearful force they 

bound — 
But see them flash all harmless to the ground, 
Saved by the pointed steel the massy tow'r 
Still frowns defiance on the lightning's pow'r. 



35 

Great Franklin's skill defies the flash and roar 
Of what v. as deem'd omnipotent before, 
And can command the tyrant from the sky, 
And make him in a prison calmly lie. 
"Knowledge is pow'r," said England's might/ 

sage, 
Knowledge is pov.-'r, repeats e=.cli passir.g age ; 
What science yet may gloriously achieve 
Is hard to know, and harder to believe ; 
If yet within her infancy of light, 
What will she be, when in meridian might 
She flashes o'er the realm of banish'd night, 
But now, exhausted, all the thunders rest, 
While glory beams upon each mountain crest 
That floats along majestically high, 
A vap'ry river flowing thro' the sky, 
All spreading o'er the wooded wide expanse, 
Where sparkling streams in tumbling frolic dance, 
O'er lofty mounts, and streams, and valleys wide, 
Who sent the:: streams to rd~ dis dcv-w^rd tide- 



36 

But silent now is many a babbling brook, 
All shrunk expiring in their marshy nook, 
And many a torrent now has lost its force, 
Creeping along an almost silent course — 
But now the ocean river brings them aid, 
And all their gifts are bounteously repaid. 
Descending now in gently falling show'rs, 
To meet him joyful rise the herbs and flow'rs ; 
Now pours in floods from his dissolving cloud — 
Again the tumbling torrent roars aloud, 
Again the sparkling streamlet flows along, 
Babbling toflow'rs and birds its pebbly song: 
Thus, all his tributary streams supplied, 
He pours the rest in great Superior's tide, 
And having ceased his wanderings thro' heaven, 
His stream again is to the ocean given, 
While in this mighty interchanging round, 
What love, what pow'r, what providence pro- 

found 
Is here developed ; while thro' cloud and flood . 
In Nature's works we see the hand of God. 



HA MI LTON; 

BOOK II. 



ARGUMENT. 



THE DELUGE. 

The warnings of the Patriarch — the scofFa of the pro- 
fane — the building of the Ark— collecting food, cloth- 
ing, &c. &c. — collecting the animals — the entrance of 
Noah and his family into the ark— carelessness of the 
human race — beginning of the Deluge; and their de- 
struction—the safety of the fish, but their subsequent 
destruction, when they are left by the flood in vales and 
caverns — their petrifaction a proof of the Deluge — 
the employment of Noah and his family — a prayer and 
evening hymn — they desire to leave the Ark— it settles 
on the summit of Ararat. 

The raven is sent — does not return — 'Noah sends the 
dove — she can find no resting place — in seven days he 
sends her again — she returny with the olive-leaf— their 
joy on the occasion. 

God opens the Ark— they bring out the animals — 
they build an altar and sacrifice — God promises to 
destroy the world no more, and creates the rainbow, 



HAMILTON; 

33 © @ IK n Ho 



We've traced the river's course through earth 

and heav'n, 
Rul'd by th'unerring laws that God has given, 
Sweeping through Nature's broad and boundless 

range, 
For ever journeying on in changeless change, 
And never halting in his course sublime 
Since first Duration's womb gave birth to time, 
Excepting once, when not a streamlet purl'd, 
Or river roll'd, throughout old Noah's world, 
For every stream was then in ocean drown'd, 
And e'en Niagara's thunder gave no sound. 
What mind can know, what tongue can fully 

tell 
How look'd the nations when their funeral knell 



40 

Was heard aloud, and God commanded all 

The floods to come, and they obey'd the call ; 

The Patriarch often warn'd them o'er and o'er, 

And many a scoff the righteous prophet bore 

From the fierce offspring of unholy Cain, 

Who ridiculed, with blasphemy profane, 

His exhortations and laborious toil, 

His threaten'd deluge, and his sea-bound pile, 

Which by Divine command he slowly rears, 

Progressing onward through a hundred years ; 

J3ut all his kindred and his race are blind, 

His family alone of all his kind 

Believe the warning, and they bear a part 

With willing-industry and skilful art, 

To build the vessel, and with many a blow 

They lay the tow'ring gopher forest low, 

And hew and frame the massy beams, and join 

Them well together, and with timber line, 

Then over all on either finish'd side 

They pour the black and boiling pitchy tide. 



41 

The fabric finish'd thus, from field and wood 

They gather all varieties of food ; 

Large stores of roots, and herbs, and hay and corn, 

By Noah and his family were borne 

Into the ark, and safely stored away 

In many a spacious granary and bay : 

They then took seed of ev'ry fruit and flow'r 

From field and garden, mountain,plain and bow ; r ; 

Old Mrs. Noah, Mrs. Ham and Shem 

And Mrs. Japhet toiled in gathering them : 

And ev'ry nice variety of fruit 

That well did for a lengthened voyage suit — 

The rich pomegranate, apple, peach and pear, 

The cocoa-nut, and grapes both rich and rare, 

With all the best that nature could afford, 

Were in their own apartments safely stored. 

They took no stores of flesh ; it seems that men 

Were not as now, like beasts, carniv'rous then, 

For only fruits and herbs at first were given 

To man by his Proprietor in heaven j 

D 2 



42 

'Twas not till after the destroying flood 
God gave them flesh to eat, all but its blood, 
But cheese and butter made from goat and kine 
They took, and large supplies of gen'rous wine, 
With which thoy did their leathern bottles fill ; 
To grind their corn they took the useful mill 
The distaff, earthenware, and weaver's loom, 
Their vessels, clothing, ornaments and broom. 
Their husbands also, with prudential care, 
Secured the harrow, shovel and plough-share ; 
The scythe and sickle, mattock, axe and spade 
For future use were in the vessel laid. 
Thus all that skill or foresight could provide, 
Were by their hands industriously supplied. 

When God informed them, " 'Ere a week be 

past, 
The deluge shall upon the world be cast ; 
Quick, gather all the beasts and living things 
That on their bellies go, or feet, or wings : 



Take two and two, of those that thou hast seen 
To be or reptile, rav'nous or unclean, 
But those for man's peculiar service given, 
Of beast and bird that's clean, take with thee 
seven.'' 

Once all the birds and beasts to Adam came 
To do him homage and receive a name, 
And now once more the mountain, marsh and fen. 
The forest, eyrie, cavern, vale and den, 
The open field, and jungle drear and dark, 
Pour forth their inmates to the Patriarch. 
The lions, tigers, leopards, wolves and bears, 
Their fierceness muzzled, leave their dens in 

pairs ; 
The zebra and imperial giraffe, 
With others — but I need not mention half 
The desert beasts that came — Indeed I could not 
And if I could, I'm sure of this — I would not. 
But now in pairs come on the monkey gang, 
The ape, baboon, and wild ouran outang ; 



44 

Next anacondas lead the serpent race, 
Which o'er the ground their slimy progress trace, 
— If Noah had been of St. Patrick's mind, 
He would have left such customers behind. 

In due obedience to the will of heaven, 
They from their flocks and herds selected seven 
Of ev'ry race, which to the ark were given ; 
Next come the wing'd inhabitants of air, 
Of clean birds seven, of unclean each a pair; 
The eagle, vulture, cormorant and owl, 
And ev'ry other fierce carnivorous fowl, 
Come two and two, from heaven tamely stooping, 
Submitting to their unaccustom'd cooping ; 
The peacock and the ostrich strut along, 
And all the various birds of plume and song, 
The linnet, blackbird, thrush and nightingale, 
And lark that does the early morning hail, 
Hie towards the ark; each wild and tim'rous 

thing 
Devoid of fear descends on willing wing, 



45 

While Noah and his sons arrange them all, 
Both bird and beast, in aviary and stall ; 
When all the animals were in whose lives 
Were to be spared, four husbands with their 

wives 
Next entered in the ark — God closed the door, 
And Noah's hundred years of toil were o'er. 
The human world, unconscious of their doom, 
Are careless as the flow'rs that round them bloom, 
Thro' future centuries they think of living, 
Some marrying, and some in marriage giving, 
Eating and drinking, building, planting, sowing, 
Nor on the deluge once a thought bestowing ; 
While mighty hosts, led by contending kings, 
Tow'ring aloft on " conquest's crimson wings/* 
Lead on their legions proudly to contend 
For universal empire, and to bend 
The world beneath their bold ambitious reign, 
And then to rear their thrones on mountains of 

the slain 



46 

Their legions meet, by madd'ning fury driven, 
While blazing helms by flashing swords are riven, 
Led on by giant chieftains tow'ring high, 
Encased in well -proved polish'd panoply, 
While carnage strews the ground with dead and 

dying, 
And broken armour on dissever'd Hmb3 is lying 
— But see, that flash ! creation seems on fire, 
Transfix'd they stand, struck with the omen dire, 
While all the congregated bolts of heaven 
At one dread peal are thro' creation driven — 
Compared with that terrific scathing light, 
The day is darkness and the noon is night — 
All thought is lost of victory or flight, 
All noise is silence to that crashing sound, 
God's voice in thunder " Let the world be 

drown' d!" 

Down pours the flood, while earth's wide 
opening womb 
Pours forth a foaming deluge to entomb 



47 

Herself and offspring. See yon chieftain's brow, 
How pale and wan ! whore is his courage now 1 
His voice of vict'ry and his eye of fire ] 
Gone, with his army's fierce contending ire. 
His foaming charger wildly tries to brave 
The roaring flood, then sinks beneath the wave, 
While dead and dying, mingling friends and foes, 
Are swept away, as down the deluge flows. 
Hundreds of brides that day had deck'd their 

charms, 
To grace their proud, exulting bridegroom's 

arms ; 
All stricken now with with wild terrific wonder, 
At that fierce flash and dooming earthquake thun- 
der j 
They sink aghast, all terror-blighted, wan, 
Into the arms of nerveless, powerless man :■ — 
All struggling now they sink beneath the wave, 
In locked embrace, their bridal bed and grave ; 
While human agony in wildest power 
Is heard where hills and forests vainly tow'r : 



48 

No lofty hill, or tree, or tower, can save, 
Above them sweeps the overwhelming wave, 
Which drowns their cry, and drowns the bellow- 
ing roar 
Of flocks and herds, whose feet can find no shore. 
The eagle, tow'ring late on boldest wing, 
Is screaming now, a drowning helpless thing, 
The mighty lion, monarch of the wood, 
His empire lost, is floundering in the flood, 
As helpless now, and feeble in his pow'r, 
As e'er was lambkin frighten'd by his roar. 

True to his nature, see yon tiger grasp 
A struggling infant with his latest gasp, 
Swept with its mother on the raging flood, 
His last fierce act to steep his jaws in blood. 

'Gainst all the doom'd inhabitants of earth, 
Of human, quadruped, or reptile birth, 
And all the wing'd explorers of the sky, 
God's fiat has gone forth, That all must die, 



49 

Except the inmates of yon gopher pile, 
In all the ocean world the only isle— 
A lonely ship without a sail unfurl'd 

A monument above a buried world ; 
The only ship wi Am, sail or oar, 

That e'er was built or since it or before ; 
The only ship that e'er was built inland, 
A thousand miles of more from ocean's strand 
— That ocean wave the vessel never sought, 
But to its keel the ocean-wave was brought. 
Met by the deluge from the mountains flowing, 
The works of man and nature overthrowing, 
While not an avalanche remains unhuiTd 
Throughout the water-doom'd deluvian world, 
And not a mountain crest of gleaming snow 
But melts and joins the tumbling torrents' flow, 
And all the icy mounts that guard the pole 
Broken, upon tlr invading billows roll, 
From off their deep and dark foundations torn, 
And on the sweeping waves triumphant borne, 

E 



50 

While all the deep abyss tow'rds heaven is 

gushing, 
Met by the deluge down from heaven rushing. 

A crowd of giants gain'd with efforts vast 
Yon mountain's summit ; 'twas their only, last 
Wild hope of succour from the withering blast 
Of God's tremendous anger, and while there 
A troop of lions struggling from their lair, 
Tigers and elephants, by instinct urged 
To reach the ground that last would be sub- 
merged, 
In wildest panic dash among the crowd 
Of congregated giants, while aloud 
Above the storm was heard the shriek and roar 
Of trampled agony, while floods of gore 
From man and monster pour'd upon the ground, 
Whilst terror, slaughter, madness, raged around, 
And as they fought, the angry sky was riven, 
And in full volume from the vault of heaven 



51 

A cat'ract rushes with overwhelming wave, 
And man and beast ..are swept in one promis- 
cuous grave. 
Thus perish'd all the tribes of earth and air, 
All ended now their struggling and despair. 

The natives of the flood, the whale and shark, 
With all that skim the wave, or lie in caverns 

dark, 
Are safe from harm — the waves engulph the 

earth, 
And drown the creatures it had given birth, 
But all the finny tenants of the wave 
Swim safely o'er th' interminable grave, 
And as they swim luxuriantly feast 
Upon the carcases of man and beast, 
And joyful see the ocean's widening reign 
The lofty summits of the mountains gain, 
And as they range their buried summits o'er, 
They revel in a sea without a shore, 



52 

But when the flood had done its errand dire, 
Then God commanded " I^et the floods retire." 
The floods obe} r , dry land appears again. 
The mountain tops as new-form'd isles, and then 
His vessel, who the second world begat, 
Fast grounded, on the shoals of Ararat, 
'Twas then the countless tribes of ocean birth 
In caves and valleys of the rising earth 
Were left behind it by the truant sea 
In struggling, gasping, scorch'd captivity. 
'Tvras by the rising of the rolling main 
The countless multitudes of earth were slain, 
Then triumphed all the natives of the surge 
When their thick atmosphere did earth submerge. 
■-- - -in ] is fatal fangs 

pangs, 
late moaarchs of the sea, 
sir flukes in giant agony, 
Beating to death at each tremendous blow 
The scaly, splashing myriads below, 



53 

While thousands spout aloft the foaming flood, 
Commingled streams of water, slime and blood. 
The full-gorged sharks, dread tigers of the main' 
Beat the red waves in fiercs and furious pain, 
While round them float the myriads of the slain. 

The uproar ceases — struggling, gasping, dying. 
Upon their backs the countless shoals are lying, 
And now, as future monuments, to tell 
That earth was buried, in the ocean's swell, 
Some pow'r has seiz'd them — body, scale and 

bone, 
And chain 'd them fast in everlasting stone, 
In one hard mass of adamant conjoin'd, 
Yet leaving all their native forms defined, 

Come here thou infidel, and gaze, and then 
Dispute the world was buried, if you can. 
'Twassaid, of yore, if man would cease to speak ? 
The stones themselves would sudden silence 
break, 

e2 



54 

And here the rocks to infidels proclaim 
" Above the Lilis the roaring deluge came :" 
Tho' forty centuries since then have passed, 
They still proclaim it, and while heav'n shall last 
They will proclaim it— tho' the Christian never 
Requires such proof—- to them, God's Word for 

ever 
Is ever proof enough for them to know 
That Noah's dove went winging to and fro, 
And found no spot above the billow's crest, 
Except the ark, whereon her foot might rest, 
But soon Jehovah sent the earth relief, 
And then she found the verdant olive* leaf; 
This peaceful sign proclaimed the deluge o'er, 
And seas descending to their ancient shore, 
And there enchain'd by God's eternal fiat, 
Above a buried world no more to riot. 
The rivers wander to their ancient bounds, 
Again the roaring cataract resounds — 
How fearful and how wondrous are the ways 
Of Him who all eternity surveys, 



Who sends alike the storm and peaceful calm, 
And holds the boundless ocean in his palm, 
And when his wrath was fearfully unfurl' d, 
He overwhelm'd his own created world, 
That scorn'd his mercy and his wrath defied — 
Oh thai the flood that woi purified ! 

Man's thoughts are " all but only evil" still, 
And deeds of wickedness those thoughts Fulfil. 

All closely seal'd within their sacred bark, 
The family of the pious patriarch 
Were not allow'd to see the deluge fall, 
When all the world without a funeral 
Was buried in one mighty turfless grave, 
Their churchyard was the all-devouring wave; 
They in the ark could hear the madd'ning roar 
Of jarring elements, but nothing more ; 
What were their feelings, them and who can tell 
What grief, what joy did in their bosoms swell, 
When all the world was drown'd, and they alone 
Were spared, and o'er the waves in safety borne- 



56 

Their own deliv'rance bade them all rejoice, 
But for the world they could lift up their voice, 
And weep aloud, tho ? both at eve and morn, 
They oft had laugh'd the prophet's words to 

scorn ; 
Yet for their doom the tears of sorrow stole, 
Tho' oft their sins had " vex'd his righteous soul." 
But little time was left in grief to spend, 
They had their wild menagerie to tend, 
The coop, the fold, the aviary and stall 
Besran aloud and clamorous to call 

D 

For food and water — these must be supplied 

At morn and evening, and they did divide 

To each its portion — herbage, grain and grass — 

To ev'ry one, just as it's nature was ; 

Not one was idle ; Mrs. Noah, and 

Her daughters aided, each with willing hand. 

To feed their beasts, and keep their dwelling 
clean, 
They were employ'd from morning tide till e'en, 



57 

And when at night their careful labor done, 

>f course had none, 
No land or country, nation, coast or clime, 
No fruit or flow'rs to tend the march of time, 
Yet they had day and night — the constant sun 
His usual course did thro' the heavens run, 
As true as when his re . . first begun. 

Within their own apartments they would meet, 
And round the table take their usual seat, 
When having risen from their evening meal, 
In pious gratitude they all would kneel, 
Their father, then, of venerable form, 
Would raise his voice to Him who rules the stoim 
With tone of pathos, simple and sublime, 
He spoke to him who rules eternity and time. 
u O thou, who filTst immensity of space, 

prese ice angels veil their face, 

The seraphim i sheri )im 3 and all 

The high and ices fall, 

Said worship thee, who art Lord God of ail ; 



58 

We, the lone remnants of old Adam's race, 
In humble reverence would seek thy face. 
Lord God Jehovah, who hast now destrcy'd 
Thy creature, man, and left the earth a void, 
O grant us, when the earth again is brought 
From out the ocean, that the fearful thought 
Of their destruction, and thy saving love 
In saving us, our hearts and souls may move 
To cleave to thee with purpose firm indeed, 
Ourselves, our children, and our children's seed." 
So spake our sire, and now to heav'n they raise 
Their voices in a grateful song of praise, 
And while their voices thro' the chambers rang, 
Mothinks it was like this, the song they sang : 

Great is our Lord God Jehovalr 
Strong to punish and to save, 

He calls the floods — the floods come over — 
All the world is one wide wave. 



59 

Lord, the deadly deluge rages, 

Floods from heaven's windows fall, 

But we will trust the Hock of Ages, 
For He is the Lord of all. 

Now He's in the whirlwind riding 
With His tempests all unfurl'd, 

In anger all his mercy hiding 

From a doom'd and buried world. 

But we are safe ; on bounding billows 
Flies our heav'n-directed bark, 

While the ocean safely pillows 
In its foam the favor'd ark, 

Glory to the God of Heaven, 
And the God of sea and earth, 

Who hath us a refuge given, 
To be creation's second birth. 



60 

Thus as they sail'd, without a sail unfurl'd, 

From Ante to the Post-Deluvian world, 

They pass'd their time between their dai)y care 

And morn and evening worship, praise and pray'r. 

And oft they spoke of former times, and when 

The human race would be supplied again ; 

But of the voyage they began to tire, 

And often ask'd their venerable sire 

How lonsr 'twould be before the ocean swell 

o 

Would be abated, but he could not teli. 

How much they wished to see the world once 

more, 
And leave their vessel for some friendly shore, 

Once more to see tt 2 fields in smiling green, 

In spring tide beauty, or in summer's sheen, 

And oft their tears would naturally flow 

For those who war Jcr'd with them long ago, 

Their comrades in their joyous early years, 

Who shared their joys, their sorrows and their 

tears. 



61 

But time will drain the greatest sorrows dry, 
Unless new griefs create a new supply ; 
Soon for themselves more frequently they 

thought, 
And in the future they the past forgot. 

All had been calm and still for many days, 
Nor wind nor rain, nor fitful lightning's blaze 
Was lately heard or seen — but listen — hark i 
The wind has waked, and whistles round the ark. 
It soon increases to a tempest strong, 
And they on bounding billows sweep along, 
But while the wind above the waves was flying, 
From off the earth the waters fast were drying. 
At last they felt a sudden shock, and then 
The ark stood fast, and did not move again 

Until the world was dry, it firmly sat 
Upon the summit of Mount Ararat : 
I' the seventh month the mountain tops were seen 
By God and angels, but not yet by men, 



62 

For they were close confined within the ark, 

And all to them as yet was drear and dark. 

Now Noah sends a raven to behold 

If earth was dry — the raven never told, 

But to and fro she flew 'tween earth and heaven, 

And ne'er again return'd the truant ravec, 

Preferring much to see the long-lost sun, 

And feast upon the floating carrion. 

And next he sends away the meek-eyed dove, 

But it can find no mountain-top above 

The sea-green wave, and tired she soon returns; 

He takes her in, and most assuredly learns, 

From moisten'd plume, and soird and drooping 

pinion, 
That o'er the earth the sea still holds dominion, 

In seven days, again he bids her fly, 
Away she sweeps again thro' air and sky, 
At eve returns — " Thank heav'n, here comes 

relief, 
A glorious prize — a verdant olive leaf; 



63 

O wife, come here ! the world again is drying, 
With this green leaf the joyful dove came flying. 
How fresh it looks ! where's Japhet, Ham and 

Shem ] 
Away, away ! go call the rest of them ! J? 
She hastes away — with joyful voice and eyes, 
She tells them of the verdant olive prize, 
They quickly come, assemble round the spray, 
And with thanksgivings close the joyful day, 
Again seven days, and Noah bids her fly, 
She ne'er again return'd — the world was dry. 
Next morn he took the covering away, 
And all the world in vernai glory lay ; 
The grass was green, the wild flow'rs grew 

around, 
But with no woods the mountain tops were 

crown" d, 
Beneath the storm and deluge roaring loud 
The lofty forests of the mountains bow'd, 
Rent and uprooted by the flood and blast, 
And on the wild tumultuous billows cast, 



64 

Now left in drifted heaps on vale and plain, 
Or scattered on the wide and boundless main. 

They long to tread the new-discovered land, 
But humbly wait for God's directing hand. 

He bids them go — unseals the long-closed door 
And all their drear imprisonment was o'er. 
Since they had seen the world before, the sun 
Had thro' the zodiac constellations run; 
They now unbar each kennel, cage and room, 
And forth in pairs the willing pris'ners come, 
First, all the reptile and carniv'rous brood , 
Who flee in pairs to some lone solitude, 
Creeping and bounding down the mountain's side 
Far o'er the plain they soon are scattered wide. 
Beasts graminiv'rous next, clean and unclean, 
Forsake the ark and gambol o'er the green, 
Joyful they frolic, free and unconfined, 
They bound, and run, and snort 5 and snuff the 
wind, 



65 

They wanton wild — 'tis nature's jubilee, 

And skip, t' assure themselves that they are free, 

Anon they rest their new-awaken'd pow'rs, 

And, hungry, crop the herbage, grass and fiow'rs. 

And now the aviary to heav'n springs. 

Exulting as in new created wings? 

They dart, and turn, and upward, downward, fly, 

And wheel in circles thro' the peopled sky : 

The eagle soars to nearer gaze upon 

The bright effulgence of the new-found sun 5 

And if their eyes a moment's gaze would risk, 

He seem'd a spot upon his golden disk. 

But all were not allow'd to wander free. 
From out the stall, the fold and aviary, 
Freedom to six of all the clean was given, 
The seventh remain'd a sacrifice to heaven, 
An altar rose by Noah's grateful hand. 
And then his children, by their sire*s command, 
Collected wood upon the altar high, 
And brought the doom'o: unconscious victims 
nigh, F 2 



66 

Upon the ground they pour'd the reeking blood , 
Then piled the carcases upon the wood : 
And now the prophet, patriarch and priest 
Kindles the pile, consuming bird and beast, 
The grateful incense floats aloft to heaven, 
And God replies to them by whom 'twas given. 

" 1, even I, who brought the deluge o'er 
The sin-stain'd earth, and drown'd it, will no 

more 
Destroy the world by flood. That ye may know 
This is my cov'nant, I will place my bow 
Within the cloud, to be a sign for ever 
To future ages, that the Lord will never 
Destroy the world again, and this is given 
An everlasting sign to man from heaven." 
So spake the Lord — -a sun-shine show'r descen- 
ding, 
Display'd the bow to earth from heav'n bending, 
? Twas hail'd with rapture by the embryo nation, 
God's brightest, loveliest, and last creation ! 



HAMILTON ; 

BOOK III. 



ARGUMENT. 

The steamboat as seen from the top of the mountain 
—the first invention of the steamboat by Fulton- his 
difficulties— his eventual triumph— the steam ships — 
returns again to the first boat — she enters the bay — the 
reasons why nature formed the bays, illustrated by an 
Indian revel— the boat reaches the wharf— effects of dress 
what is a gentleman- — dandies made by tailors — love of 
dress an instinct natural to man, savage as well as 
civilized — angels' dress— Tom Intellect — his character, 
his difficulties, and eventual success— self educated 
genius often despised by lettered pedantry, illustrated 
by the turkey cock and eagle. 

The author interrupted in his cogitations upon the 
mountain— appearance of the town a3 seen from its 
summit — fleetnesa of the mind or eye contrasted with 
animals-* the steam car — Pegasus and Parnassus — why 
have we no poetical mountain in America — descended 
halfway down the mountain of Hamilton, and saw the 
town to more advantage. 



HAMILTON; 

m @ o m o-'flc 



See yonder vessel in the distance ride, 
Near where the heav'ns dip into the tide, 
She, independent of the inconstant gale, 
Ne'er woos the winds to fill her flapping sail, 
Proudly aloft she bears her floating form. 
And sweeps triumphant on through calm and 

storm. 
She drinks a portion from the rolling wave, 
Which, changed to vapour, gives her pow'r to 

brave 
Or lake or ocean, in its calm or ire, 
With fiercely boiling breath and lungs of fire. 
She smokes along, a gift to every land 
From science, sent by Fulton's honoured hand 



70 

Some thirty years have pass'd since first he gave 
The sail-less ship to press the yielding wave. 
With deep intensity of hopes and fears, 
He heard the sceptic scoff, the taunts and jeers 
That clog the efforts of the master mind 
Who dares to dive or soar beyond his kind. 

But now he triumphs — see his vessel driven 
By its own pow'r without the winds of heaven, 
While congregated thousands wond'ring throng 
To see the foaming monster dash along, 
And as the multitude in wonder gaze, 
Confess that round him all the brightest rays 
Of glory meet in one unclouded blaze ; 
Not less triumphant then did Fulton feel, 
Than when Columbus from his vent'rous keel 
Sprang on the shore, and saw his flag unfurl'd 
In waving glory on the new found world. 
Years pass away, and on that very shore 
Where congregated crowds long years before 



71 

Had seen the " car of Neptune" lash to foam 
The sparking waters of her billowy home ; 
Far greater multitudes admiring throng 
To see yon stately vessel sweep along. 
Come o'er the ocean from the father-land, 
Approaching now the steamer s native strand. 
Last triumph this of Fulton's mighty art, 
To link two worlds, that rolling oceans part, 
The Sirius and Great Western first are seen, 
Next Liverpool, and last the gorgeous British 

Queen, 
Her wheels in motion aud her flags unfurl'd, 
A floating palace from the olden world ; 
She enters now, with rich unbounded freight, 
The forest harbour of the empire state. 
Long may she safely and triumphant ride, 
The ocean's glory and her country's pride, 
The worthy namesake of our ocean Queen 
Who sways Britannia's realms — may glory's 

sheen 



72 

Forever circle round thy royal crest, 
To bless thy people ! oa thy royal breast 
We would that Britain might behold an heir, 
Worthy his mother, sent to Britain's pray'r 
To be the empire's hope in future vears, 
When thou art taken midst a nation's (ears, 
To gain a brighter croiun beyond the spheres ! 

But to return, and leave the ocean's surge, 
Yon vessel, lately seen upon the verge 
Of distant vision, sweeps along the lake, 
And now comes nearer, leaving in her wake 
A track of waves upon the trackless deep, 
While all around the tumbling billows sleep ; 
She nears yon sandy rampart, which divides 
The lake and bay, two near approaching tides, 
Thro ? which a steam-boat channel has been made, 
O'er which a navigation-bridge is laid, 
With sudden jerk the boat-bell loudly rings, 
And round the bridge upon its pivot swings. 



73 

She enters now the bay, where in their pride 
The floating navies of the world might ride, 
And there defy the fiercest winds of heaven 
That e'er to rags have flapping canvas riven, 
Or on the rocks the shatter'd bark have driven. 
A sheltering port which Nature kindly gave 
From her own wrath the trembling bark to save, 
When wildly mounted on the raging blast, 
She rolls the billows into mountains vast, 
While death and desolation round are cast, 

As savage tribes beneath the wigwam cone, 
Lounge round the nre with loosely-slackenM 

zone, 
Resolving on a wild uproarious revel. 
Send round from lip to lip the whiskey devil ; 
But ere they cast their senses to the wind. 
And coolly rush to madness fierce and blind, 
All justly fearing that the demon strife 
Might seize the rifle, tomahawk or knife, 

G 



74 

" With method in their madness," fix on one 
To take the weapons far away, which done, 
The whiskey then goes round with savage glee. 
Till all is one loild roaring revelry. 
So Nature, fearing that no ship might ride, 
While storms were booming on the mount'nous 

tide, 
She made them harbours far within the shore, 
Begirt with mountains, that their fiercest roar 
Might pass unheeded, shelter'd from the blast, 
When in a freak her wits away were cast, 
Possess'd by madd'ning demons of the storm. 
Who all her features furiously deform. 

The boat comes on, and as it nears the goal, 
Away the carriages and waggons roll 
To meet the passengers a mile or more 
]7rom King Street to the intercepting shore. 

Upon the wharf obsequious waiters stand 
To take your traveling bag, and bowing bland 



75 

io all they see of 'fashionable grade y 
" You go, sir, do you, to the Promenade," 
And others, while their ready coaches range, 
" Sou go, sir, to the Hamilton Exchange," 
While all the homespun peasant lab'ring band 
Are left unnoticed on the thronging strand, 
Except by waggon-teamsters, who come down 
To °:et a load of luwege for the town. 

O Do O 

The cabin-gentry mount the varnish'd carriage, 
On foot and waggon come the deck and steerage. 
One carriage stops at Promenade Hotel, 
Where viands wait your appetite to quell, 
While semi- Africans with craniums curly 
Obsequious wait on all the guests of Burley. 

Upon appearances how much depends, 
Not only among strangers but 'mong friends, 
You'll smiling meet a gentlemanly knave, 
While homely excellence your sneers must brave. 



76 

What is a gentleman % From crown to heel 
A gentleman must be — be what? — genteel ! 
The title, gentleman, in every mind 
In well-made clothes is usually defined, 
But then before the title we can spare them, 
The owner must be also — used to wear them, 
For those who disregard this needful law 
Make people think of " Peacock and Jackdaw." 

But if his clothes get shabby, old and tore, 
Your gentleman's a gentleman no more. 

You can't conceive a gentleman in rags, 
Tho* Pride for Poverty the title begs, 
Nor those for gentlemen will Fashion own 
Whose dress is from the wardrobe of a clown, 
No more than those for polished wits who stammer 
Thro' vulgarisms, blunders and bad grammar. 
— Excepting in a jury-box, and then 
The coarsest-clad are always gentlemen , 



7? 

For lawyers, sheriffs, judges, I assure ye, 
Address them always " Gemmen of the Jury,'* 
Tho' when they're out of it, perhaps they'd never 
Receive the title if they'd live for ever, 

If this be true, it surely follows, then, 
That 'tis the clothes that make the gentlemen, 
And so it is, tho' when in moral mood, 
You think they should be hon'rable and good, 
And often are, you not unfrequent find 
High moral worth with elegance combined. 
But Fashion's fiat is — If well attired, 
There is no gold of character required. 

See yonder dandy, exquisite and thin— 
A handsome casket, but there's nothing in, 
'Tis God and nature makes the honest man : 
To make a dandy none but tailors can, 
And yet the Fashionable often sneers 
At him who shapes his figure with his shears, 

g2 



78 

And scoffs, and spurns, and curses him who 

made him, 
Tho' for his work perhaps he never paid him. 
All wish to be respected and admired, 
'Tis often gain'd by being well attired; 
Of course the opposite must be confess'd, 
You're treated shabbily when shabby-dress'd. 

An instinct natural to the human race- 
Is love of dress in ev'ry time and place, 
E ? er since the simple gardener and his wife 
Gave up their title to the Tree of Life, 
By eating of the tree of evil knowledge, 
And clothed their naked forms in fig-tree foliage, 
These simple garments they instinctive made, 
And sought to hide them far in Eden's shade. 

The savage dandy and barbarian belle 
Are fond of dress and ornament as well 
As they who glitter at a birth-day ball, 
The Louvre, theatre or festival; 



79 

The first are pleas'd, in water-mirror viewing 

Their nose-rings, blankets, brooches, and tattoo- 

Their bead-work'd moccasins and scarlet zone . 

On which is hung a crooked powder cone. 
His knife, his tomahawk, ana leaden hail, 
Kept in his pouch of squirrel-skin and tail ; 
His cheeks and forehead painted, and his hair 
All black, besmear'd with tainted grease o r bear : 
Accoutred thus, they feel as proud and fine 
As dandies exquisite or belles divine. 
Who skip in broadcloth or in satins shi 
Array 7 d in all that splendor may command, 
Arranged by Fashion's fluctuating hand. 

An oracle of song the world has told 
That ornament is dross on Beauty's gold, 
But Beauty thinks she has a right to judge, 
And to the oracle she answers "fudge !' ; 
Not only earthly beauties— angels too 
Have wardrobes fine — at least we know they do 



80 

Dress most sublimely ever since the fall, 
Before, perhaps, they did not dress at all — 
At least we are not told but 'tis quite right 
That they should come arrayed in garments 

bright, 
For even angels, if they came without 
A splendid dress, would not be cared about r 
So much do our inhabitants of earth 
Prefer appearances to real worth. 

Tom Intellect, for instance, who could soar 
On wings of mind magnificently o'er 
Yon glitt'ring mindless fashionable train, 
Who dare to treat his presence with disdain ? 
Tho' learning, virtue, excellence and worth 
Meet in his mind, he is of humble birth ; 
He cannot gild the casket, and to them 
All worthless is the peerless, priceless gem. 

They cannot think, whene'er they look upon 
His homely dress, that o'er his mind has shone 



81 

The star of genius with the brilliant rajs 

Of science in a philosophic blaze. 

Tho' not obtrusive, yet he feels their scorn. 

And feels that he is fitted to adorn 

A higher sphere, tho' scorn he must endure, 

While guilty of the crime of being poor. 

In ev'ry age — the truth mast be confessed — 

" Slow rises worth, by poverty oppressed*" 

So sang the bard — I don't remember whom — - 

And then he wove no web on Fiction's loom. 

But if obscurity should pass away, 
And shew his genius to the blaze of day, 
His wealth increases, and his new-found name 
Is heard aloud and pointed out by Fame ; 
With all his mighty faculties unfurl'd, 
He then commands the homasre of the world. 

o 

Tho' letter'd pedantry will oft despise 
Self-educated genius w r hen she tries 
To gain distinction ; spurning at his name 
Who dares approach the pyramid of fame 



82 

Without a college scaffolding — as wise 
As tow'ring turkey-cock, who boldly flies 
From dunghill to a barn-roof's lowest edge, 
And walks in triumph to its topmost ledge, 
Where swelling out, with bloated plumes and 

pinions, 
He struts along the weathercock's dominions 
(A gallant fellow, who thro' cold or warm 
Has never turn'd his tail upon the storm) 
And now his turkeyship would fain despise 
The unfledged eaglet struggling to rise, 
Tho' in a few short months with ease he'll soar 
The loftiest mountain-tops sublimely o'er 
At one bold flight, when in his feathery robe, 
Ascend the sky, and compass half the globe. 

Those people now appear to think it strange 
That I so long should let my vision range 
Around their landscape — chain'd in thought pro 

found, 
With one knee rested on the dewy ground, 



The other raised, on which my paper's spread, 
In hand a pencil charged with useful lead, 
With which to note the images that rise 
Before they fade away from mem'ry's eyes. 

I must retire — inquisitive they seem 
To break upon a poet's harmless dream : 
They now advance and call — I must away 
Where screened 'mong woods, I can pursue my 
lay. 

Between the mountain's base and distant strand 
Upon a sweeping range of table land, 
The town of Hamilton in beauty lies, 
Beneath the glory of the morning skies, 
A picture drawn by man's industrious pow'rs, 
Within a " mountain frame" that round it tow'rs 
But by its mountain frame sublime and vast 
The town 's to insignificancy cast; 
So far God's works transcend the works of man,, 
Far as the breezes from a lady's fan 



84 

Transcended are in majesty and pow'r 

By mightiest hurricanes that ever tore 

The rooted monarchsfrom the mountain's brow, 

While all around the leafy legions bow. 

WJien from the summit of the mountain's height 
Upon the valley vision bends her flight, 
The town seems smaller than it would appear 
If you beheld it from a point more near ; 
If to advantage, then, you'd see the town. 
Come half-way up, or else go half-way down. 

The mind or eye thro'heav'n or earth can soar, 
In one fleet instant leap the landscape o'er, 
But bodies must be satisfied to go, 
Ev'n those with wings, comparatively slow, 
Much more then man, who goes upon his feet, 
(And even then than other kinds less fleet) 
Must travel slow unless he goes by steam — 
A wonder ! for it seems but yet a dream ; 



85 

Who would have thought it was prophetic truth, 
That while our century was in its youth, 
Commingled fire and flood would fast propel 
A train of massy cars, and do it well — 
Yes, far transcend the elephant in might, 
And almost pass the eagle in his flight, 
Yet such is now, and greater things may be, 
Which you and I shall never live to see. 

When other creatures run, they take to heeh ; 
The engine-monster always takes to wheels, 
Unless you give him leave himself to ride 
He will not move along one single stride, 
And when he rests no provender he needs, 
'Tis only when he travels that he feeds, 
Then give him drink and fill his mouth with wood, 
And while he rests he will not ask for food ; 
In one half-hour, so rapid is his mode, 
He can digest a common carter's load, 
And then so wild and fierce his lungs will play, 
He blows and fumes his forage all away. 

H 



86 

He may be yet ernploy'd in war campaigning, 
As hostile nations so cielight in draining 
Each other of their lavished blood and treasure. 
Spirit of Caesar ! what heroic pleasure 
'T would give to those, whose element is war, 
To mount upon a fiercely-rolling car, 
While from it Perkins' hullet-burlers cast 
Their show'rs of death sent by the boiling blast, 
That from the muzzle of the steam-gun dashing, 
Propels the balls without the powder's flashing, 
While the huge car on wheels of blood is flying 
O'er lacerated legions dead and dying. 

But as I've neither steam nor buoyant wings, 
I must be satisfied with slower things. — 
As to advantage I would see the town. 
I must essay to clamber half-way down. 
I wish I had the winged horse Pegasus, 
Which ev'ry other bird and beast surpasses. 
But then — he only travels round Parnassus, 



V T is only there that bards may boldly stride him 
And o'er the mount majestically ride him ! 
And why have ice no bright poetic mountain 
From which distils a sweet inspiring fountain. 
Round which might grow the laurel and the bays 
Entwined with flow'rs of song and gems of 

brightest rays, 
While harp and lyre sent forth immortal song, 
Swept by the muses as they pass'd along, 
Yes, native muses, while around them throng- 
Bold native bards, who catch the heav'nly sound, 
And pluck the bays that brightly bloom around? 
— Perhaps some daring bard of master mind 
Such glorious mount may gloriously find, 
And open to Columbia's wond'ring eyes 
Her bright Parnassus as the brilliant prize 
OF his exertion, while the hand of Fame 
Writes on the mountain's brow his laurel'd name ! 



But as I've neither wings, nor steam, nor horse, 
L pon my feet I must pursue my course 



88 

From rock to root — from root to rock descend, 
Now rapid bound, then cautiously we wend ; 
Now seize this twig, then leap upon yon ledge, 
Now cautious slip from off its rugged edge, 
Our slow and rapid, quick and cautious pace 
Soon brings us midway to the mountain's base, 
Where seated on a rock, around we glance 
Upon a narrower, but still wide expanse. 



HAMILTON 

BOOK IV. 



ARGUMENT 



The Jail — Court-house above it — difficulty of decid- 
ing cases — not right that juries should be forced to be 
unanimous, illustrated by a ease in point, where an in- 
nocent man is condemned and executed — the murderer 
discovered in the person of a dying madman. 

Proposes an alteration in the existing law — an oc- 
cur, ence in Polish history, an illustration— juries should 
be paid by the country— strictures on the lawyers— an 
epitaph and an anecdote — a law should be passed to 
limit legal -expenses— but the best remedy is, to keep out 
cf dtbb —the? Market-house—- the Church — three other 
churches— Dumdum Castle— and by whom erected — dif- 
ferent opinions entertained of his character — another 
building— the owner — president cf the bank — effects of 
banking— ether buildings too numerous to mention — 
his seat after whom f£ Hamilton" is named— contrast 
between Hamilton twelve years ago and now— anticipa- 
tion looks for still greater— is marriage decidedby choice, 
chance, or destiny— decided in favor ot the last — advice 
to some of the gentle sex, who are not always gentle. 
illustrated by a story. 

Returns again to the scenery— Wellington-square — 
Port Nelson — Bronte— Samson and Nelson, both die at 
the moment of victory — two townships— conclusion. 

H 2 



HAMILTON; 

m © © is n ¥o 



See yonder edifice of square-hewn stone, 
— It is not lonely, tho' it stands alone, — 
Surmounted by a tow'r and tin-capp'd dome ; 
It is to many an unwilling home. 
The felon there awaiting judgment lies, 
While o'er his head the dreaded court that tries 
Now sits in judgment, justly to decide 
Of innocent or guilty — Oh how wide 
Apart are these extremes, and yet how near 
They sometimes meet- — when all the case you 

hear, 
It seems no human mind can safe decree 
What a just verdict in the case would be ; 
If ruled by men of diff 'ring mental sight, 
Both guilty and not guilty would be right. 



92 

With ev'rv def'rence to his roval mind, 
Who £ave the les:ai blessing to mankind, 
And ev'ry def'rence to each legal sage 
Whose thoughts are graven on the Jurist's page, 
Methinks it wrong that juries should alone 
On pain of legal penalties be sworn 
To be unanimous, and give decision 
For or against, or else remain in prison. 

A shade of perjury must sometimes fall 
Upon the hearts of some of them, when all 
Profess that in the verdict they unite, 
Tho' all do not believe the verdict right. 

Perchance some hours of noisv argument, 
With all their stores of reasoning, were spent, 
Wh a for the verdict " guilty" nine agree 
T'.ere still remain, who differ from them, three. 
Again they canvas o'er the evidence 
Both for the accusation and defence, 



93 

All circumstantial — none beheld the deed,. 
None bat the murd'rer saw his victim bleed, 
Murder'd and robb'd he was, and that alono 
Is all that can be positively known, 
And yet against him circumstances meet— 
A track was seen resembling prisoner's feet, 
And on the trampled blood-polluted ground, 
A double-bladed pocket knife was found 
With both the carved initials of his name 
— To prove the fact, another witness came, 
That twenty sovereigns were lately found 
Near pris'ner's house, secreted in the ground ; 
'Twas also proved the murder'd had in store 
In specie full five hundred pounds or more, 
All which was gone — the sov'reigns alone 
Were all that totho anxious court were shown ; 
'Tvv;.. also said, the prisoner was poor, 
Tho' no reproach had e'er been cast before 
Upon his name, but now he stands arraign'd, 
Accused before the world of being stain'd 



94 

With murder foul, of ev'ry crime the worst, 
The second crime for which mankind was curst. 

In calm tho' deep intensity he stood, 
And heard himself arraigii'd for shedding blood— 
" What say you, pris'ner, guilty or not so '?"— 
—Not guilty ! in a tone full deep and low — 
He look'd and spoke as tho' to God from man 
He would appeal— the witnesses began, 
And to the sworn impanell'd jury told 
Of footsteps, pocket-knife and hidden gold, 
With many other things which seem'd to show 
The pris'ner was guilty. Oh what woe 
Is felt within that wildly throbbing frame — 
It is the prisoner's \wife — as evidence she came — 
He look'd upon her ! Oh, what dark despair, 
What untold grief, what mighty love was there ! 
Their glances meet, :?nd now are raised in pra'y'r ; 
Tho' dreadful seem'd his fate, he could alone 
Have borne it all uncrush'd without a groan— 



95 

But Iter's urimann'd him ! Oh, what thoughts 

are now 
In burning progress passing o'er his brow : 
His thoughts revert, he thinks upon the bow'rs 
Where first they met in joyous wooing hours. 

The scene returns, when with a husbamd's 

pride 
And lover s passion, first he clasp'cl his bride, 
The world was then in smiles, but now how 

changed, 
Misfortune first, now guilt, has all estranged— 
At least imputed guilt, but there is one 
Who says he's innocent — -her hands upon 
The book of God do tremulously rest, 
While to her quiv'ringlips the book is press'd. 

A moment's pause — her heart is raised in 
pray'r 
When gathering strength from what seem'd 
strong despair, 



96 

To meet the effort every latent pow'r 

Is firmly rous'd — she swears — " Through every 

hour 
Of that dread night when Rossiter was slain, 
I lay awake raek'd with the toothache's pain, 
And thro* that night my husband from my side 
Did never go until the morning wide 
Had grown to day. His could not be the blow 
That fell'd the victim. — He a murderer $ JYo ! 
Great God of Heaven, no !— tho' misery came, 
Led by misfortune, on my Henry's name 
None ever dared to fix the brand of guilt or 

shame !" 

The effort overcame her — in a swoon 
Her woe was buried, to awake too soon. 
The court was moved — what heart of human 

mould 
Could such a scene unpitying behold ? 
But justice, grave, inflexible and stern, 
Will not allow ev'n pity's hand to turn 



97 

Her sword away : the trial still goes on, 
Opposing lawyers spend their pow'rs upon 
The doubtful case — next comes the judge's 
charge, 

Who states again the evidence at large, 
The jury listen, both with mind and ear. 
Hoping his charge may make the case mere 

clear. 
" The footsteps, pocket-knife and hidden gold," 
He thought; " against the prisoner strongly told : 
Then, there's the evidence of prisoners wife, 
"Which, if you think it true, must save his life, 
But, gentlemen, I fear 'twas love, not truth, 
That gave the evidence; therefore her oath 
I think you must with scrutiny receive, 
'Tis yours to credit it, or disbelieve • 
So, gentlemen, you may retire, and then 
Consult with one another— if again 
Upon mature reflection there should still 
A reasonable doubt remain, vou will 



98 

Then give it for the pris'ner's benefit, 
Who from the charge of course you must ac- 
quit." 

As seen above, most anxiously they tried 
For many hours, and yet did not decide, 
JYine thought that he was guilty, three believed 
Him innocent and all the rest deceived. 
But wearied now of argumental strife, 
Tho' wishing much to save the pris'ners life, 
At last they yield, tho* long they did sustain 
Their opposition — but they think it vain 
To hope that large majority to gain, 
And moved by hunger, by confinement press'd, 
And urged vehemently by all the rest, 
Against conviction they consent at last — 
The verdict 's given, and the sentence pass'd. 

His wife's a maniac ; and 'tween earth and 
heav'n 



99 

His spirit from his form is rudely riv'n, 
And to the surgery his corpse is given ! 

A year has pass'd— and on that bed of death 
Yon tortur'd wretch is struggling for breath — 
Hark ! how he raves — hear — hear him wildly 

tell 
Of deeds of violence — while fiends of hell 
He thinks his audience — see his eye balls glare ! 
On some dread object — while with hideous stare 
They seem as tho' they'd from their sockets leap 
To gaze more near, while all his features weep 
Cold perspiration — terror, madness, guilt 
Proclaim the harden'd murderer who spilt 
His blood for which a guiltless man was doomed, 
For which his wifeVcrush'd spirit was entomb'd 
Within the grave of madness, wild and dread, 
A living body with its spirit dead. 



100 

In wild delirium the felon raves, 
He sees his victims starting from their graves — \ 
" Oh save me from him — ha ! take off his hold ! 
I cut his throat — he's coming for his gold — ■ 
And Jones was hang'd — the jury thought 'twas 

Jones 
That kill'd him— the re-?— see there his bloody 

bones-—- 
He's got the knife I cut his name on, and 
He's putting up a gallows — in his hand 
He has the rope — keep off ! I will not hang !" 
And from the bed the raving felon sprang — 
But soon he fell, and writhing, foaming, lay, 
'Mid groans and curses wild his spirit pass'd 

away. 

One of the three who 'gainst conviction gave 
The verdict guilty, heard the murd'rer rave, 
He hung his head in deep and dark dismay, 
And from the dying madman turn'd away ; 



101 

The verdict guilty on his conscience burns, 
While to his mind the Court-House scene re- 
turns — 
He sees again that dark connubial woe, 
*' Not guilty'' in a tone full deep and low 
Rings in his ears, and also that wild tone, 
When sorrow to despair had darkly grown, 
She heav'n invoked, and said " Tho' mis'ry came 
Led by misfortune, on my Henry's name 
None ever dared to fix the brand of guilt or 
shame !" 

'Tis hard that men should be condemn'd to stay 
From day till night, from night again till day, 
Imprison'd in a guarded jury room, 
And forced, tho' 'gainst their consciences, to come 
To one decision : why should it not be 
Decided by a full majority 
'Mong jurors, as 'lis done in Parliament? 
The few might then have priv'lege to dissent, 

i2 



102 

As they in councils, congress, senates — then 
Minorities of hungry jurymen 
Would not be forced, tho' diff'ring, to agree, 
As was the case with our dissenting three, 

'Tis true, 'twould not have saved the pris'ner's 
life, 
Or from insanity preserved his wife, 
But 'twould have saved the consciences oftlwse 
Who sacrificed their conscience to repose. 

A nation once (it is not now a nation) 
Sought thus to carry on its legislation, 
By forcing her aristocratic Diet 
To be unanimous in every fiat ; 
By which wise law, one proud capricious peer 
Could veto any bill, unless withheld by fear. 
One time it chanced, a law which all but one 
Wished much to pass, but it could not be done, 
For one old noble, in despite of all, 
The bill would always veto or blackball ; 



103 

Then no alternative remain'd but one- — 
To meet without this stubborn peer — 'twas done, 
They shut the door to keep his lordship out, 
But he, suspecting what they were about, 
Climb'd on the roof, and down the stove-flue 

went, 
Into the stove, where he remain'd close pent, 
And mark'd their progress, close his prison keep- 
ing* 
Till, just at passing, they beheld him peeping, 

All black and sooty, while with sneering grin 
He gave his veto — .he should then have in 
His cranium taken, but he look'd about 
In scornful triumph ; but a sword leap'd out 
Like lightning from its sheath — dt glanced and fell 
— His head fell with it, as historians tell. 
Thus silenced by this argument, at last 
The bill of course unanimously pass'd. 

I'd recommend our lawyer legislators, 
Our counsellors, judges, pleaders and debaters, 



104 

To try and change their jury laws, and then 
A dozen honest, diff 'ring jurymen 
Would not be forced, as now, to chuse between 
Their conscience and convenience — such has 

been 
And is the case — then change the legislation, 
Although it may be thought a dang'rous innova- 
tion ; 
And add a clause, if such a law is made 
('Tis just and right) that juries should be paid, 
Paid by the country, like my lord the judge — 
Yes — tho' forensic gents may whisper " fudge!" 
We think it hard that all the legal trade, 
Fromjudge to bailiff, should so well be paid, 
And they condemned to spend their means, and 

stay 
Three weeks, perhaps, at once, and get no pay. 

A lawyer is another name for rogue — 
Has been a saying very much in vogue, 



105 

But this is nothing more than angry spleen, 
For there have sometimes honest lawyers been; 
We recollect an epitaph on one, 
'Twas graven on a Scottish churchyard stone ? 

" The Lord works wonders surely now and thon, 
Here lies a gudelike honest lawyer-mom" 

? Tis quite amusing, oft, to hear and see 
How well these gentry quarr cilia g^a arte \ 
A well-fleeced client asked the reason why 
(A shrewd old lawyer 'twas who made reply) 
That lawyers seem so angry with each other, 
Yet in a moment link like friend or brother? 
" We lawyers do not always what appears, 
Resembling much a common pair of shears, 
Which seem to cut each other, but I ween 
They only cut whatever comes between" 

How seldom one misfortune comes alone ! 
When losses to embarrassment have grown. 



106 

To help him stagg'ring on his downward journey 
Upon him leap a bailiff and attorney ; 
His creditors' own weight he scarce could bear, 
And now he's loaded with another pair, 
Who riot in their hard-wrung legal plunder, 
Till 'neath their weight he sinks completely 

under. 
How selfish is mankind, how hard to feel 
For woe of others, if it brings us weal ! 
What cares a conqueror for nations' groans, 
If he can mount their abdicated thrones- — 
A doctor's sorrow for his friend's disease 
Is neutralized by pocketing his fees. 
A patron's loss might often cause despair, 
If 'twere not that the mourner is his heir. 
Lawyers and bailiffs for distress would feel, 
If int'rest did not all their bosoms steel ; 
Like vultures ravenous, and fungi, they 
Luxuriate and fatten on decay. 
But lawyers naturally are no worse 
Than they who 'gainst them often rail and curse, 



107 

And he who suffers might be nothing better 
Were he a limb of law instead of debtor. 
But then a law in justice should be pass'd, 
To stop expense from running up so fast; 
That ev'ry legal limb should be ungown'd 
Who more for costs than ten or twenty pounds 
Should ever charge, — that sheriffs never shall 
Collect for costs but half the principal ; 
But now just Noticeing for trial oft 
Will sink the principal below the cost; 
But the best remedy discover'd yet, 
For all these evils is s keep out of debt, 

The jail and court-house you above ware 
shewn, 
And from the text a long discourse has grown, 
The market-house may next your eye command, 
And now the church between it and the strand, 
A handsome structure, whose ascending spire 
Seems in the solar radiance all on fire. 



108 

There are three other buildings, whence arise 
Of prayer and praise to heav'n the sacrifice : 
May gospel truth for ever brightly beam 
Within their wall's — the glorious gospel theme 
Be sounded loud — loud mayHosanas ring 
In heavenly song to heaven's Eternal King; 
Now from these buildings to the left you turn, 
And see the knightly castle of Dundurn, 
Built by a bold aspiring speculater 
A Lawyer, Colonel, — yes, and something greater 
Who while McKenzie Navy Island sw r ay'd 
Commanded our irregular brigade, 
Where bravely brandishing his bloodless rapier 
The gallant Speaker won the style, Sir Napier ; 
Like all who mount aloft on fortune's wheel, 
He has his foes as well as those who feel 
Pleased at his rise ; conflicting praise and blame 
Are blown a^ike by fluctuating fame, 
For Rumor, like the constellation Crab, 
Goes both ways, when she's speaking of M'Nab, 



109 

But this in justice must at least be said, 
His speculations gave mechanics bread, 
And sent the town most rapidly ahead. 

Near his you see another building rise, 
The fruit of bold commercial enterprise, j 
A massy structure, elegant and plain, 
Where opulence and comfort jointly reign ; 
If at his place you would admiring tarry 
To ask the owner's name, 'tis Colin Ferric, 
A wealthy ground proprietor in fee, 
And also is a member of P. P., 
And superintendent of the paper -mine? 
High priest of Mammon's temple, at whose shrine 
The gold and silver offerings are paid, 
And paper pray'rs and promises are made : 
The heart and reservoir, which fills and drains 
The wide extended arteries and veins 
Of wholesome trade and bloated speculation, 
With ebb and flow in constant fluctuation. 



110 

Sometimes she fills their veins to overflowing, 
And speculation seems to grandeur growing* 
To walk in gold and soar on di'mond wings, 
And scatter 'mong her train the lavish'd wealth 

of kings, 
But oft we see the bloated bubble burst, 
And all the land with bankruptcy is aursf. 

Some other buildings worthy of my song 
There are, but they would make my list too long. 

While houses closely ranged, or scatter'd wide 
'Tween town and country, do the scene divide^ 
As usual built in ev'ry varying style, 
From flueless cabin to the handsome pile, 
While rolling waggons and loud-lowing kine, 
With bark of dog and squeal of hunted swine 
Caught thieving in some -poorly-closed enclosure 
That leaves the crop to hazardous exposure, 
Are heard in distant rumbling squealing chorus, 
Brought by the wind that's gently blpwing o'er 
us. 



in 

Upon the mountain's base, beneath our feet, 
Embower'd in woods you see his rural seat 
Whose name is giwn to the town, along 
Which we have sought to twine the flow'rs of 

song ; 
When first I saw it, some ten years agone, 
A scatter'd village then was Hamilton, 
It shortly after took a sudden start, 
And now it stands a brisk commercial mart ; 
Anticipation looks thro' future years 
— The town is gone — a city then appears, 
While all her suburb mountain-heights around 
With castles, villas, and chateaux are crown'd, 
Where urbine grandeur, wooing nature's charms, 
Is clasp'd in rural beauty's flow'ry arms, 
And science plants her Academic bow'rs, 
While from their 'midst her classic temple tow'rs. 
May bright prosperity for ever claim 
The — town or city for her own domain, 
Thy sons for ever fraud and vice eschew, 
Thy maidens modest and thy matrons true, 



112 

There's nothing in this world so lovely seen 
As lovely woman clad in virtue's sheen, 
And if Religion then with hallow,' d light 
Shines on her soul, she seems an angel quite, 
Bright as a sunbeam in a dungeon's night 
So look'd fair Eve before the serpent he 
Had led our mother to the Upas tree 
Of deadly knowledge, whose envenom'd taste 
Made man a slave, and paradise a waste. 

It is not good for man to be alone— 
Was said by Him who made and fills the throne 
Of universal empire, and He made 
Woman for man, his councillor and aid ; 
And tho ? some, peevish bachelors may rail 
And crack their jests, as worthless, old and stale 
As they themselves — despite their single life. 
'Tis good for man to have a virtuous wife 
His bliss to heighten and his griefs to share, 
And gild with smiles of joy the brow of care. 



113 

These thoughts are commonplace and plain — not 

new — 
We would such wives were also common too. 

Some say that marriage is a lottery, 
Some say that in our choice we may be free, 
And other some, 'tis done by destiny. 

If to the ground a sparrow cannot fall 
Without His knowledge who created all. 
And ev'ry individual rooted Lair 
That clusters round the forehead dark or fair, 
By him is number'd— then we may believe 
That He to each does his companion give, 
J ust think how much on marriage may depend, 
And who can know when these results will end. 
See yonder pair before the altar stand, 
? Tis Cupid calls for Hymen's holy band ; 
Years pass away, and well the first command — - - 
" Increase and multiply and fill the land"— 
They have obey'd — a nurn'rous fam'ly spring, 
And round the fire they form a smiling ring, 

k2 



114 

Soon, like their parents, they begin to pair 
With husbands fond and maidens young and fair; 
"Increase and multiply" is still in force, 
And they obey it like their sires, of course 
Twelve families are now produced from one, 
And twelve again from these ; when that is done 
Thus they will onward till the end of time. 

Thro s ev'ry kingdom, country, state and clime 
Their fruitful progeny is scatter'd w r ide, 
Increasing with a still-increasing tide — 
— All have desended from that single pair ? 
The bridegroom fond and bride then young and 

fair ; 
If to a marriage such results belong, 
And from one pair such countless numbers throng, 
Then who would say but Providence or Fate, 
Not reckless chance, did those two lovers mate 1 
They who're to leave no offspring in their stead 
Without the pale of destiny may w r ed 



115 

By choice or chance, not they whose love gives 

birth 
To future races to replenish earth, 
And, when extinguished are both earth and time. 
To people heaven with a race sublime, 
Who shall exist while heav'n itself shall last, 
Nor die but when eternity be past, 
Then sure the cause whence such results proceed 
Must be the work of Providence indeed, 
For more important than the sparrow^s life, 
Or numb'' ring hairs, is joining man and icife. 
Tho' chance is busy with her lottery, 
Tho' choice will boldly boast that she is free, 
They're but the slaves of ruling Destiny. 

I do not wish to blame the gentle sex, 
I would reform them, tho' 1 would not vex, 
But some there are who do not gentle seem, 
Their husband's faults become their daily theme 
— To him they're peevish, sullen, dark and cold, 
Or never warm excepting when they scold. 



116 

Love hides a multitude of faults — but hate 
Exposes all, and new ones will create — 
T own that husbands oft are in the wrens:, 
And well deserve the censure of my song, 
Who seem resolv'd their happiness to mar, 
And throw the gauntlet for domestic war. 

When storms of heaven on the earth descend, 
The safest for the willow is — to bend, 
And prudent wives, who such disputes would fly, 
Upon the ground will let the gauntlet lie, 
And then the storm, so angry, wild and cruel, 
Will die away itself for want of fuel. 

A couple, once, who loved enough to wed, 
Soon found that from their dwelling peace had 

fled ; 
The matron to a spae-ioifc went and told 
How her mad spouse did furiously scold, 
And then requested some bewitching charm 
His matrimonial turbulence to calm ; 



117 

With this the sybil willingly complied, 

And gave a phial fdl'd with chrystal tide — 

" The charm you wish does this bright phial 

hold, 
And when your spouse begins in rage to scold. 
Take some of this within your mouth — the 

while 
Altho' he frowns, do you be sure to smile, 
And keep it in your lips till he is done, 
And soon all will be clear as is the noonday sun." 
She tried it oft — as oft the charm work'd well, 
And oft she prais'd the sibyl's witching spell, 
Less and less frequent was the angry jar, 
And almost ended all domestic war. 

'Twas simply this, if for the charm you seek, 
With this within her lips she could not speak, 
And could not fiery altercation court, 
As was her wont before, by sharp retort. 
Pride may reject the moral this would teach, 
Yet we would recommend the sibyl's charm to 
each : 



118 

And if you will your husband's temper school 
Then do it mildly, only when he's cool ; 
But never war against his follies wage, 
When half besides his wits with angry rage, 
For this will make his errors bloom afresh, 
And surely will not make your own the less. 
You see I've lectured long on matrimony-, 
Altho' /never said the moon call'd honey, 
But then I've seen enough, and so have you, 
To prove, what has been said is far too true. 

From ev'ry place we find a pathway leading, 
With num'rous thought on num'rous subjects 

breeding, 
But now once more we'll turn Pegasus' rein, 
And come unto our scenery again, 
Now raise your vision, and while glancing o'er 
Near where yon sandy rampart meets the shore, 
Beyond the bay a rising town you view, 
Call'd after him who blazed at Waterloo ! 



119 

Who tow 'ring high on " conquest's crimson 

wings," 
Met in full shock the Emperor of kings ! 
Who sought all thrones to darken and eclipse, 
And like the Angel in the Apocalypse, 
As an imperial deity to stand 
With one foot on the sea and one on land, 
And then to mount a universal throne, 
And wield the sceptre of the world alone. 
For years on land he seem'd omnipotent, 
And kings and nations at his sceptre bent, 
But when he sought his footsteps to sustain 
With naval bulwarks on th' unconquer'd main, 
Britannia hurPd her bolts athwart the wave, 
And to the ocean-depths his broken bulwarks 

gave ; 
And since, on land her thunder bolts of war 
Have hurl'd him from his high imperial car, 
And Britain's lion, standing o'er its tomb, 
Pluck'd from the bird of France his blood- 
stained laurel plume. 



120 

Beyond the square, perhaps a mile or more, 
Upon a bleak uncultivated shore, 
Port Nelson stands, a desolate abortion, 
To speculating fools a useful caution, 
Some dozen shells and skeletons arose, 
There fix'd, the embryo town no further goes ; 
Ev'n Nelson's name could not its life ensure, 
Or make it prosper with a scite so poor ; 
" Great names to little things are oft applied/' 
To puff a bubble on the glitt'ring tide 
Of speculation, while the anxious throng 
In struggling jostling hurry drive along, 
His fortune's made who gains the treasure first — 
— The first has gained it — 'tis a bubble burst! 

Beyond Port Nelson, some five miles or more, 
The village Bronte rises on the shore, 
A name by Naples to the hero given, 
When flying France was from the ocean driven , 
The title Duke of Bronte — Duke of Thunder ! 
Was justly giv'nto England's naval wonder. 



121 

With his last thunderbolt his spirit pass'd, 
His mightiest, deadliest effort, and his last ; 
Like him subdued by base Delila's charms, 
Who lost his glory in her witching arms, 
Like him in death he struck his deadliest blow, 
Their spirits pass'd away, 'mid triumphs o'er 

the foe. 
One died 'mid crashing columns, gods and bones, 
While pagan scoffs were drown'd in pagan 

groans, 
The other died 'mid cannons thund'ring, flashing, 
'Mid spirits flying from their wounds all gashing, 
Olid shouts of vict'ry, groans and timbers crash- 
ing* 
'Mid blazing ships to broken splinters riven, 
Wild ocean hells in fragments hurl'd to heaven ! 
He too had his Delila, branding shame 
Eternal on his great undying name. 

In mem'ry of the chief, and where he died 
Two townships meet on the indented tide, 

L 



122 

Both Nelson and Trafalgar side by side, 
Two words that war has given to renown. 
To trumpet till a mightier trumpet drown 
Her many voices- — when the hero's name 
Shall perish with the god he worshipp'd, Fame, 



MISCELLANEOUS 



Fill §0 



125 



THE INFANT WANDERER. 



The following Poem, on the loss of the Author's sister, 
who strayed in the woods on the 17th of April, 1827, 
at the age of two and a half years, is almost his ear- 
liest production, and whatever may be the opinion of 
its literary merit, it has one thing at least to recom* 
mend it — it is a literal description of the most dis. 
tressing event it ever was his lot to witness. 

What mean those notes of woe! that anguish 

wild ! 
The oft-repeated words — my child ! my child ! 
— A well-known voice — it is my mother's cry, 
Her words are woe, her look is agony — ■ 
That child is lost/ in wild maternal wail 
Now Ellen ! Ellen ! mounts upon the gale — ■ 
And Ellen ! Ellen ! echo hill and dale ! 

What hurry — what dismay in ev'ry look ! 
With speed we search the well, the running 
brook , 

l2 



126 

The barn, the cellar, brushwood, field and swamp, 
The sunny hills and glens all dark and damp. 

With more than courier's speed the tidings fly, 
Our friends and neighbors kindly make reply 
By hast'ning to our aid, and as they come, 
Ask how and when she wander'd from her home, 
" Thro' yonder wood the elder children went 
To drive some cattle, by their mother sent — 
The child has folio w'd — tho' none saw her stray 
Her tiny footsteps mark the sandy way. 
It chanced, a man had call'd the day before 
To get of scholars' names the usual score, 
Intending, if it would the neighbors suit, 
" To teach the young idea how to shoot ;" 
The children all were pleased, the thing was new 7 
And Elleu said, " Mamma, may I go too f" 
" Oh yes, my dear shall go to school," and so 
She thought the rest had gone, and she would 
also go. 



227 

They now disperse — the woody mazes search, 
Where grows the cedar and the shady birch, 
Every thicket, every nook explore, 
Trace and retrace their mazes o'er and o'er. 

The sun is sinking — Oh delay thy race I 
Hide not so soon from earth thy cheering face. 
O wouldst thou now, as once on Gibeon's height. 
Prolong thy stay, and thus keep back the night, 
Then might we hope this wand'ring child to save 
From rav'ning wolves and bears, a tombless 

grave. 
Vain thought-— he sets — his flight no pow'r can 

hold 
But His who did from ancient chaos mould 
The vast creation — and His eye can pierce 
Thro' thickest night — Oh save from prowlers 

fierce 
This wand'ring babe until the coming morn, 
Then guide us where she strays all helpless and 

forlorn. 



128 

*Tis night, reluctantly we wander home ; 
All ling' ring and disconsolate we come, 
My father on his children looks around 
With tearless grief — ** Your sister is not found ! J? 
His voice of woe falls deadly, dark and cold 
On all our hearts with agony untold. 

Hope could not bear the sound — tho' fain to 
stay, 
She slowly flapp'd her wings and soared away, 
Despair replaced her, who with fun'ral wing 
Ready to perch had long been hovering, 
She ever urges Hope's unwilling flight, 
Ready to seize her abdicated right. 

My little brothers to mama do say, 
" Poor Ellen's lost — she cannot find her wey." 

" Come light the torches — let us try once 
more" — 
Again we go and search the forest o'er, 



129 

Intently listening oft with straining ear, 
Hoping an infant's voice or sigh to hear : 
But vain's our list'ning — all our searching vain. 
There is no hope 'till night is on the wane : 
Home we return impatient for the dawn, 
Meanwhile die hapless wanderer we mourn. 

Morn has return'd — we eye with fearful look 
The ice thick frozen on the playful brook, 
We fear the pow'r that seized the rippling flood 
May have congeal'd the currents of her bloody 
And stopp'd the efforts of that little tongue 
That often cried "mama" the trees among; 
To hear her call no fond mama was nigh, 
To soothe her grief, or falling tear to dry. 

The sun is up — our friends from far and near,. 
With hast'ning neighbors thronging on appear ? , 
And now a host has gather'd on the lawn, 
With anxious hearts to find her lone sojourn. 



ISO 

* — With short discussion we arrange a plan 
For careful search, by ranging man by man 
All in a line, with little space between, 
That, nought escaping, all might plain be seen. 

Behold my father's venerable form 
Oppress'd by grief — an oak bent by the storm — - 
His grief too deep for tears — no tears do flow — 
An image of unutterable woe, 
Yet does not sink : he turns his gaze on high — 
See, hope has gleam" d athwart his agony. 

Four furlongs from cur house, the Credit holds 
Its winding way, all shaded, clear and cold, 
Here rests one flank of cur extended line ; 
Now on we march in order — all combine 
Strict care with speed, to search the brake and 

brush, 
Each hollow log, each streamlet, swamp, and 

bush, 



131 

And thus we journey on thro' hill and dale. 
— Hark, rustic trumpets loud our ears assail — - 
Again they flourish, longer, louder, higher ! 
Away we dash thro* brushwood, brake and briar, 

My elder brother, 'bout a mile from home, 
On Credit's banks beheld two neighbours come 
Down to the ford — the stream was greatly 

swollen 
By melting snows and rains that late had fallen, 
They could not cross — he quickly bade them go 
Down w r here the channel's broad, the water low : 
They quickly cross, land on a little isle, 
Conversing of the wand'ring babe the while— 
They start — they listen — hear a mournful sound 
— What's this % what have we here ] the child 

is found ! 
A fallen tree across the water lay, 
O'er this she found her narrow, dangerous way ; 
The island had been clear'd two years before, 
A crop of wheat the fruitful island bore ? 



132 

And had been stack'd, tho' now 'twas ta'en away: 
Among the rails which fenced it, there she lay 
Crouch'd on the rotten straw, all cold and lone, 
On head and knees, with scarcely strength to 

moan. 
Not long they loiter — in their arms she's raised, 
While fervently exclaiming — God be praised ! 
The man who bears her finds, tho' closely press'd, 
She closer clings to his exulting breast. 
— They leave the isle, meet stragglers on the road 
By whom the tidings fly to our abode — 
She's found ! she's found ! now flies upon tlie 

gale- 
She's found ! she's found ! re-echo hill and dale. 
Her mother scarce believes it, yet she flies 
And 'meets the groupe, joy dancing in all eyes ; 
Some matrons with maternal feelings sought 
To take her, but she scream'd, and would have 

fought 
To stay with him who from the island bore 
Her, tho' she ne'er had seen his face before. 



133 

Her mother comes— she hears the well-known 

sound, 
And sudden starts, and gazes wildly round, 
With eager joy she throws her willing arms 
Around her mother safe from all alarms, 
Like ivy to the elm — -no winds can sever — 
She clings as tho' she'd fondly cling for ever, 

These tidings, yet, my father does not know, 
He's where the hemlocks thick entangled grow 
Almost impervious to the foot of man, 
And there his solitary search began, 
For much he fear'd that we in passing through 
Would not its ev'ry maze and thicket view, 
And oft he call'd upon his long-lost child 
Amid this dreary solitary wild, 
" O Ellen, Ellen, answer me, my dear, 
Alas, your father's voice you cannot hear." 
— A gun is fired — he hears the startling sound, 
With interest intense his heart does bound— 

M 



134 

But hope revived is quickly chill'd by fear, 
"It is some hunter's gun, who's wand'ring near." 
— Another shot ! " It is, it must be so, 
The child is found !" Away like bounding roe 
He flies along; now he has reach'd the goal. 
Who can describe the transports of his soul ? 
I shall not try— for, failing to conceive, 
Who can portray them ] and the theme I leave. 



ON PERSEVERANCE. 

" Nil desperandum — ne'er despair," 
The darkest night must end in day, 

Let Perseverance always dare 
To be successful, and she may. 



135 

O'er Scotland, long" misfortune low'red, 
And still the storms did fiercely roll, 

When on a couch lay Scotland's lord, 
Her fates hung heavy on his soul. 

He saw a spider try in vain 

Eleven times to climb a wall ; 
Tho J oft it fell, it tried again 

The twelfth, and then it did not fall. 

" Then ne'er despair," the monarch cried; 

Eleven times did Scotland turn 
From England's pow'r— but England's pride 

Was humbled low on Bannockburn, 

Thus tho 5 the winds and waves should all 
In adverse fury round thee rave, 

Still Persevere — 'tis duty's call, 
And trust in Providence to save. 



136 



VERSES. 



Composed upon the Death of the Author's Father, and 
sung at his Funeral, on the 10th of February, 1833. 



His spirit now has wing'd its way 

To regions of eternal rest, 
Where beams of unexpiring day 

Illume the mansions of the blest. 

He now has join'd yon radiant train 
That sing Emanuel's lofty praise, 

Who left His bright eternal reign, 
That He might them to glory raise. 

O matchless boon, divinely grand, 

Beyond the bounds of human thought, 

By no created genius plann'd, 
By no created genius wrought : 



137 

But wrought and plann'd by Him who bade 
This world from gloomy chaos rise, 

By Him whose high volition made 
The lofty fabric o£ the skies. 

By Him who wore the thorny crown, 
That we a glorious crown might wear, 

Who laid His life an offering down 
That we might reign in glory there, 

O grant us, tho' on earth we pc.r: ; 
A glorious meeting in the skies, 

: griefs no more distract the heaj 
.-. bright eternal joys. 



l 2 



138 



STANZAS 



To the memory of a beloved Sister, who died in the 
autumn of J 837, at the age of 23, rejoicing in the 
hope of a glorious immortality beyond death and the 
grave; and not the least joyous part of her prospect 
was the hope of meeting her father who had gone 
before. 



Her form is now laid in its funeral rest, 
But we may not seek for her spirit there ; 

The grave is never the home of the blest, 
It is far beyond the earth and air. 

She has gone to mingle with kindred minds, 
Where flow'rs of Eden so brightly bloom, 

To gather the fruit from its clustering vines ; 
Then why should we mourn for those in the 
tomb ? 



139 

She was borne by angels on pinions bright, 
Her father has welcomed his child to the sky, 

She has gazed on Jehovah's throne of light, 
And bask'd in the beam of Emanuel's eye. 

She has quench'd her thirst at the living tid 
That flows from his throne o'er a 
strand, 

And gather'd the fruit that grows by its side, 
From the tree of life in the spirit lane. 

Her father has ask'd her what news from e 
How her mother, her brothers and sisters fare % 

She has told him, and oh ! it well were worth 
A world but to witness their convei ~ 



140 



LINES 



3ted while listening one evening in Tufonto to 
harmony of female voices engaged in sacrej 

song. My sister, mentioned above, was one of the 
ful number. Though her voice is now hushed 

on earth, it is hearJ, no doubt, in higher harmony in 



-he a the joys of beav'n we sing, 
Our fancies take a glorious flight, 
p hearts ascend with equal wing 
/ond the utmost bounds of night, 

hrone of God, where all 
The radiant ho£ts of heav'n combine 

do him homage, as they fall 
Ai ?lody divine 



141 

The wonders of redeeming love. 

The glories of the heav'nly world, 
So far below, so far above 

Our thoughts, howe'er so wide unfurl'd. 

Hark, how the swelling anthems roll 
The vast circumference along, 

Kindling in every heart and soul 
The glorious ecstacy of song. 

And millions more of kindred flame 
Shall join that bright celestial choir, 

Who celebrate the glorious name 

Which all their hearts and songs inspire, 



142 

STANZAS. 

I saw thee only once, 

Thou mayst not remember me, 
But many a time I've thought, 

Yes, a thousand times of thee. 

I shall not say I love thee, 

That that passion wild and deep, 

At thy first touch upon its chords 
Did o'er my bosom sweep. 

Yet I could wish that if thou art 
But what thou seem'st to be, 

That Providence — oh yes — would link 
My destinies with thee : 

That thou shouldst be that bosom friend 

So long, so vainly sought, 
Whose image Hope and Fancy oft 

To loveliness have wrought, 



143 

And then that image they enshrined 

Within a halo's light, 
With future happiness and bliss 

All gloriously bright. 

But oft the visions of young hearts 

No more than visions prove- 
Yet where's the heart so dead and cold, 
That would not wish to lone, 



Some. years ago, the Author was at the wedding of a 
frienl in the township of Toronto, when after having 
assisted as best man at the ceremony, he recite ■'■ 
following lines, which were prepared for the occasion, 

If bliss on earth or happiness below 
Is ever known, 'tis when the genial glow 
Of two fond hearts, with virtuous feeling fra* 
In marriage bands unite, when ev'ry thought 



144 

And wish on earth is to increase the bliss 
Of those they fondly love — when hearts like these 
At Hymen's altar blend, when soul with soul 
In sweet-toned unison, while at the goal, 
Responds the ties of duty and of love, 
While her fond lips so tremulously move. 

Then all the happiness that man may find, 
While link'd in closest harmony of mind, 
Is surely theirs, and they will pass thro* life, 
'Mid peaceful pleasures, happy man and wife. 



145 



The following was published some years ago in the 
periodical for which it was written —but the wish 
contained in the third verse was as vain as such 
wishes often are. 

For the Hamilton Garland. 

The rising genius of the land 

The Garland's page with lib'ral hand 

Bedecks with many a gem ; 
They range the muses' radiant bowYs, 
Selecting bright poetic flow'rs 

From each perennial stem, 

And not to poetry alone, 

Or thoughts conveyed in music's tone, 

Their efforts are confined; 
They search among the realms of prose 
For thoughts ne'er waken'd from repose 

Before, to charm mankind. 



146 

Long may the Garland's pages shine 
With gems of thought in song divine, 

While virtue brightly reigns ; 
Long may it cause the latent fire 
Of genius to awake the lyre, 
* • And sing in lofty strains 

The charms of virtue and of love, 
Religion's pow'r all else above. 

And may they also sing 
Of Canada's wild scenery, 
Yet scarcely known in minstrelsy : 

Their muse on freedom's wing 

Should also mount, tho' we require, 
Thank heav'n, no sanguinary lyre, 

Or bold Marseilloise hymn, 
To rouse our youth to break in twain 
The tyrant's heavy galling chain 

From off the fetter'd limb, 



147 

Yet we should teach our youth to prize 
The Constitution — in your eyes 

Let her be sacred still; 
Guard her, and she will guard our rights 
'Gainst tyranny, which with/ring blights 

All good to nurture ill. 



TWO DESCRIPTIONS OF LOVE, 

The Author, and we presume the reader, will prefer 
the latter. 

Some Beauties have the pow'r 
By one bright triumphant glance, 

With mystic spells to bind the soul 
In painful pleasing trance ; 

With no twilight in their passion, 

Alternate blaze or gloom, 
Black despair, or ecstasy, 

Malaria* or perfume* 

* A pestilential vapour. 



148 

But some have not the pow'r 

To print the god of love 
At one bold stroke upon the heart, 

Fro;m which he may not move. 

But like the painter's pencilling, 

Theirs is the work of time, 
? Tis after various efforts 

That the portrait glows sublime. 

With many a grace, and tender glance, 
And many a nameless charm, 

They twine themselves around the heart, 
And all our pow'rs disarm. 

And love like this is pure 

As the bosoms it inspires, 
Love like this is Jasting, 

And bright as vestal fires. 



149 

It is founded on esteem, 

And it brighter beams with years, 
And when the hearts it warms are cold, 

'Twill glow beyond the spheres. 



THE FAIRY AND THE DEW-DROP, 

The sunbeams changed to gem of light 
A dew-drop on a flow'ret bright, 
A Fairy saw the dazzling prize, 
Which rivalled elfin beauty's eyes, 
He touch' d the gem with magic wand, 
Then took the di'mond in his hand, 
Which, petrified by mystic power, 
He bore away to elfin bower, 
Where peerless 'mong the sylphs of light 
He found his own dear lady sprite, 
And gave the gem— then snatch'd a kiss, 
Tho' chid by pouting faery miss. 

n2 



150 



To 



Oh who can know, but those who feet 

The bursting sigh — the burning tear — -.. 
The agonising gloom of soul, 

And prospects drear. 

That come like mildew o'er the bloom 

Of early flow'rs, when all their charms 
Are sinking down to Beauty's tomb 

In Spring's young arms. 

Oh who can know, but those who feel 

The sorrows of that aching heart, 
Where Love lies buried, ne'er to live 
Or to depart. 



151 

Yet I forgive thee, but at first, 

Altllo , the feeling might be new, 
I gave thee all my love, with half 
My anger too. 

You think, perchance, you acted right, 
But 'twas not kind to wound me so, 
'Twas you alone who had the pow'r 
To strike the blow : 

And when you saw the wound was givem 

Did you no compunction feel, 
Did no tender sorrow through 
Thy bosom steal, 

To think thou canst not feel for others, 

No, I would not wrong thee so, 
I know thou feelest, and for them 

Thy tears would flow. 



152 

And canst thou, then, not feel for him 

Whose heart enshrines thee in its core, 
To whom thou must be dear as life 
Till life is o'er. 

And when that life is near its close, 

My spirit hastening to be free*, 
'Twill linger on the earth awhile 
To pray for thee. 

And when that grave is cov'red o'er, 

If thou perchance shouldst wander near, 
You'll think of him who loved thee so, 
And shed a tear. 

But we shall meet in brighter worlds, 

Where griefs nor blighted hopes are known, 
We'll meet in glory, and before 
Jehovah's throne. 



153 

And oft we'll heavenly converse hold 

Of earthly thoughts and passions past. 
For love like this of mine for thee 
In heav'n must last, 



LINES 

Written in a Lady's Album, 

You ask me, lady, to produce 

A friendly off 'ring from my lyre ; 

When ladies call, who may refuse % 
'Tis they who sweetest strains inspire, 

Oh could I reach Parnassus' height, 
Amid my glorious wandering 

I'd gather flow'rs of peerless light. 
'Mid grandeur and beauty's revelling. 



154 

CulPd by a bold aspiring hand, 

Guided by Fancy's moonlight gleamings, 
Where sportive sylph and odors bland 

Commingle in poetic dreamings : 

Where the bless'd spirit of the lyre 

Moves o'er its chords in bright revealings, 
Kindling every soul to fire 

With passionate ecstatic feelings. 

And lady, when the wreath was won, 
To thee I'd dedicate the flow'rs, 

To blossom in thine album fair, 

An off 'ring from the muses' bow'rs. 



155 



A MORNING REVERIE, 

Now Night has flown on ebony wing. 
And ta'en the west in its journeying, 
To cover with shroud and canopy 
The verdant isles of the southern sea, 

Lovelier far than brightest noon 
Now morning comes — -Apollo's boon ; 
Sweet music wakes hnong the silent trees. 
And floats along on the balmy breeze. 

While Spring's young offspring sport around, 
Waked )m rest profound, 

And the heart is filPd with buoyant ^rlee 

At the smile of da^ 's ! ,nghc infancy. 



156 

'Tis like the joy of the mother's breast, 
When her infant son awakes from rest, 
And sees on his cheek the first bright smile. 
In transport kissing him the while. 

*Tis the first bright intellectual gleam 
Of reason's sun — the morning beam 
Shewing the workings of the soul, 
As from his eye o'er his cheek it stole, 

While pure tho' evanescent joy 
Grlow'd in the breast of the infant boy, 
Bright as the beam in the tremulous gem 
That spangles the slender flow'ret's stem. 

The sunbeams kiss'd the budding rose, 
And waked it from its sweet repose, 
It open'd its leaves on the orb to gaze, 
And received those tints which its form displays. 



157 

Now on it sits the Fairy Queen. 
"Who by poet's eyes alone is seen, 
A gossamer robe arrays the sprite, 
? Tis form'd of the golden beams of light, 

By her maidens woven in mystic loom 
With meteor-shuttle by light o' the moon ; 
Obsequious maids of honor wait 
Around their lady potentate, 

Or gambolling in sportive glee 
They bound o'er the dew-bespangled lea* 
Some chace the birds thro' the sunny air, 
Some dance on the back of timorous hare, 

And while it starts with panting fright, 
Loud shouts and laughs each merry sprite. 
But the Queen has call'd them from their play, 
And quick as an echo they all obey. 



158 

The sun had touch'd the pearly dew, 
And away the liquid amber flew, 
And as it rose on the morning air, 
It bore perfume from the flow'rets fair. 

From verdant vale and vocal hill, 
Where sunbeams dance on the murmuring rill ? 
For the beam only made them gems of light 
To take them away on its pinions bright. 

But away in pursuit of the fugitive dew 

The fairy has sent her retinue, 

To gather the odor it stole away, 

When touch'd by the golden beams of day. 

But along those beams it soars afar. 
Where each brilliant gem becomes a star, 
Unseen they float in the azure high, 
'Till Sol has sunk in the western sky, 



159 

When they gild with clear bespangling light 
The sable canopy of night, 
Till darkness flies, when each liquid glebe 
Comes down to adorn Aurora's robe 

She spreads upon the lap of Spring, 
When Love and Joy are dallying : 
Thus in succession, morn and even, 
They're dew on earth and stars Id heaven. 

But quid: as thought each fairy sprite 
Has followed the dew to its azure height, 
They gather the odour in elnn flask, 
And merrily end their airy task, 

Then fly with speed to their shining Queen, 
And dance witb §lee on the sylvan green, 
Till lo ! she raises her royal wand, 
And away they all fly to fairy land. 



160 



TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 



I love that sweet engaging smile 
That plays around thy cheek, 

I love that look so soft and bland 
That does of virtue speak ; 

And speaks a mind of innocence, 

Than di'monds purer far, 
Like spirits that might dwell within 

Yon lonely evening star. 

Thou'rt young, just blossoming amid 
Life's sweet romantic hours ; 

Hope bends her rainbow in the skies, 
And spreads the earth with flow'rs. 



161 

That rainbow is but shining mist, 
Those flow'rs will fade away, 

Yet who would not admire their charms, 
And love them while they stay 1 

Sweet girl, I shall not wish thy sky 

For ever bright and fair, 
That wish were vain — Tor all on earth 

There's mingled joy and care. 

But oft from clouds the evening sky 
Its brightest hues does borrow, 

And cups of joy are sweetest oft 
Drain'd from the hand of sorrow, 

But may you feel, if clouds should rise 

In darkness o'er thy mind, 
That next to happiness is this— 

In grief to be resign 9 d. 

o 2 



162 



May He, whose smile is light and life, 
That smile bestow on thee, 

Then thou art gloriously safe, 
And bright thy destiny. ■ 



AN EPIGRAM. 



That "all is but vanity under the sun," 

Is a maxim as true as 'tis old ; 
And long as our orb thro' the heav'ns shall run, 

So long shall the truth of it hold ; 

But the proverb's true meaning is misunderstood, 
You suppose it condemns worldly pleasure, 

With all that the worldling may value as good, 
Fame, loveliness, glory and treasure. 

But the revellers wait till the sun has gone down, 
'Ere thev iournev to revel or ball ; 

So 'tis under the stars that their pleasure is found, 
Surely this you dout vanity call. 



163 



TO FANNY. 

I love the bright and soft blue eye 

That doth to words of love reply, 

I love the lily and the rose 

That on a maiden's cheek repose ; 

But more, far more, I love to find 

The fairer lily of the mind. 

Sweet girl, combined in thee I trace 

The loveliness of mind and face. 

Thy innocence and virtue pure, 

Which will, when beauty fades, endure, 

A mystic chain around me cast, 

And bound my destinies so fast, 

Unto thy pow'r I must resign 

Till, Fanny, you submit to mine, 



164 



AN ACROSTIC. 

J oyful and sweet are the hours of spring, 
A nd sweet is the songster's warbling, 
N ature is then as bright as her flow'rs, 
E mpearl'd with dew in the morning hours. 

S o also bright is the summer's bloom, 

I n glory she waves her leafy plume. 

L oved and welcome is autumn time, 

V alued for fruits in plenty and prime. 

E nshrined in frosts is winter wild, 

It aging, he's nature's stormy child, 

T ho' he hears no songster warbling, 

H e has pleasures as well as flow'ry spring. 

O n thee may their choicest blessings flow, 

R ound as the seasons joyous go, 

N ever to bring thee care or woe. 



165 



THE TIDE OF LOVE. 

The following poem is dedicated to those who have felt 
the delicious agony and rapturous wretchedness of Love. 

Floating clown the tide of L;ve, 
Steering just as passion pleases, 

We sail thro' many a flowery grove, 
Fami'd by Hope's bewitching breezes. 

Sometimes in a magic lake, 

Careless if becalm' d or sailing, 
Hope her strains of joy will wake, 

Spite of Disappointment's wailing, 

Hush! she sings the charms of love, 
And spreads her fascinations o'er us,, 

While Beauty's form is seen above, 
Joining" in the thrilling chorus, 



166 

Now we'll clasp her glowing charms 
— No ! she's vanish'd like a vision, 

Vacancy is in our arms, 

Despair in darkling gloom has risen, 

Clouding all her brilliant sky, 

Gardens bright to deserts changing— 

Where Hope's bright palaces rose high, 
Gloomy craggy mountains ranging. 

Fiercely now its currents pour — 
Now to ice our blood congealing— 

Dark the mis'ry of that hour, 
Deep the agony of feeling: 

Anger, Disappointment, Pride. 

With Love a fearful war are waging, 
Who the trembling bark may guide 

While such combatants are raging ; 



167 

Shall we unto Prudence flee ] 

Has Prudence aught to do with Passion f 
As well the world might hope to see 

Propriety controlling Fashion ! 

Oh where is hope ? — I see her light 
Thro' yon rocky opening gleaming — 

A vaunt, Despair !— from Beauty bright 
The light of Hope again is beaming. 

— Forward like the arrow's flight 
Down the headlong torrent dashing". 

'Mong rocks just seen by fitful light 
From electric meteors flashing ! 

Again Hope's music's in the air, 
And the horizon is bright'ning — 

" Faint heart ne'er won lady fair !" 
Vanish 'd is the storm and lightning, 



168 

Follow, then — Hope leads the way. 
Beauty will not fly for ever ; 

Love will bid her feet to stay, 

Love and Hope, O who would sever I 

Love, led by the hand of Hope, 

Makes our earth a blooming heaven, 

But when led by dark Despair, 
Happiness from hearts is riven. 

— Bat what means that double tide? 

'Tis the stream of love dividing; 
One is rapid, rough and wide, 

One o'er pearls in chrystal gliding; 

Bearing many a shallop light, 
Each with a lady and her lover ; 

Honey-moon is shining bright, 
Disappointment's reign is over. 



169 

• — But look down the other stream. 
Many a shallop there is scatter'd, 

Lured too far by love's bright dream, 
Till on sunken breakers shatter'd. 

Some essay to struggle back, 
Fearfully with love contending, 

Ev'ry nerve is on the rack, 
Agony each fibre bending. 

Others from their woes to flee 

Down the headlong torrent rushing, 

Split on the rock felo-de-se — 

See, oh see their life-blood gushing i 

Hope promised fair she ? d safely lead 
Them all to Hymen's bright dominion, 

But left them in despair to bleed, 
And fled on evanescent pinion. 

p 



170 

Thus when we launch on Love's bright tide? 

Our breasts with hope and ardor glowing, 
'Mong bow'rs of bliss we lightly glide, 

On sorrow not a thought bestowing : 

Hope's promises we fain believe, 
Because they are so fairly spoken, 

She does not willingly deceive — 

'Tis want of pow'r her word has broken ; 

And when on earth her word is given, 

'Tis often folly to believe her, 
'Tis only when she speaks from heaven 

That truth and pow'r will never leave her. 



A ROUNDELAY. 



A votary of love's and thine 

Attempts a roundelay 
In praise of her whose graces shine 

That will not feel decay. 



171 

I love to gaze on nature's charms, 
When Spring 'mid smiles and tears 

Gives up to Summer's sunny arms 
The young and smiling years. 

But tho' she is both bright and Fair, 
She knows not we admire, 

There is no sympathy of soui. 
No interchanging fire. 

Not so whene'er I gaze on thee. 
And meet that glance of light 

From eyes of spaikiing brilliancy, 
That mock the gems of night. 

And 'tis not charms of form alone, 
But brighter charms of mind, 

G-ive thee those nameless witcheries 
That round the feelings wind.. 



172 

For tho' I'm in Love's prison bound, 

I value more the chain 
Than all the wealth by av'rice found 

In India's richest vein. 

Oh wert thou mine — if gracious Heaven 
Would grant the precious boon, 

The brightest planet in the sides 
Would be our Honeymoon. 



To MRS. RANSOM, of STREETSV1LLE, 

On the Death of a young and lovely Child. 
Vain is a mother's tender care, 
Vain a mother's warmest prayer, 
Vain the physician's healing pow'r 
To save thee, lovely little flow'r! 
Vain is its beauty, vain its bloom, 
It only blossoms for the tomb, 
She came to twine around the heart, 
And then, like morning gems, depart. 
S^veet pleasure, like a happy sprite, 
Play'd around her features bright : 



173 



A. 



k transcript of its mother's charms, 
'Twas infancy in. Beauty's arms. 
But now how changed — that sunken cheek 
Tells the tale we need not speak, 
While ev'ry throb with keener smart 
Is mirror'd in the mother's heart, 
Till snatch'd from earthly pains and love, 
It soars to bloom in bow'rs above. 



TO DONA JULIA. 



A contributor to the Hamilton Casket and Garland. ~~ 
The Author's customary signature was " Newburn." 

Who is this sweet poetic " Dona " 
Canadia's muse delights to honor ? 
To be a foreign Spanish belle, 
She sings in English passing well. 
I like her prose — Love and Romance 
Along in solemn sadness dance 

?;2 



174 

— Perhaps you think that dance and woe 

Each other's company forego? 

So let It be — you may this time 

Condemn the sense, but spare the rhyme. 

But to return — fair Julia Dona, 

I really think thy writings bonna — 

If they're a transcript of the mind, 

I rank thee high 'mong womankind ! 

— Belle ! did I call thee % — thou mayst be 

A wife — but what is that to me ? 

And yet, in truth, I wish I knew, 

Not that I'd send a billet-doux, 

But all who' re climbing manhood's noon 

On Cupid's side of Honeymoon — 

Are pleased to meet with ladies fair, 

Who, uncontroll'd, no fetters wear, 

Hoping some lovely maid to find 

With sweet, congenial heart and mind — 

Form'd by the destinies above 

To be his constant lady love. 

But hold ! these lines perchance may rouse 
To jealousy some happy spouse— 



175 

Far be it from me that I should raise 
An angry matrimonial blaze. 

Adieu ! still seek the Muses' power. 
To wile a leisure, lonely hour : 
But worship not the idol Fame — 
"What can she give thee but a name ? 
But let thy hopes aspire to Heaven, 
From whence immortal life is siven ! 
To all who seek the glorious prize, 
Lo ! Mercy bending from the skies, 
Offers a far more glorious crown 
Than by an Alexander worn — 
More glorious than the wreath of bays 
The loftiest Poet e'er displays. 

Adieu ! tho' we may never meet 
To have a friendly tete-a-tete, 
Yet if you kindly condescend 
Tho' unknown, to write your unknown friend 3 
9 Twill be a favor which, in turn, 
May be acknowledged by " NewburnJ* 



176 



MY BIRTH PLACE, 

The land of my birth and the land of my sires 
Is Erin, whose name my fond fancy inspires ; 
Thro' my heart it does thrill, the sweet sound of 

her praise 
Comes soft o'er my soul, in her own native lays, 
Tho' far from my country, in Canada's wilds ; 
Since childhood I've dwelt, yet her own native 

child 
I feel that I am ; and in glory arise, 
When aided by fancy, her sun-gilded skies 
In loveliest grandeur her landscapes appear, 
Manger ton and Mourn in sublimity rear 
Their high-tow'ring summits — the Shannon and 

Boyne ; 
The vales which fhey flow through, to enter the 

brine ; 
All rise on my vision, tho' memory's dawn 
Had not shone on my soul, 'ere away I was borne 



177 

O'er the broad waves of ocean, to America's 

shore, 
But Hope whispers oft — " Thou shalt see her 

once more." 
Yes, see Hospitality's own native isle, 

Where Friendship and Love on the wanderer 
smile, 

To her children the loveliest land in the world ; 

And her sons never hope, when their sails are 

unfurl'd, 
And leaving " the gem of the ocean" behind. 
Another so lovely and friendly to finch 



NOTES TO HAMILTON, 

Book I., Line 3. 

The eye is a Daguerreotype which brings 
Within the soul all bright created things. 

The Daguerreotype is an instrument lately invented 
by M. Daguerre of France, by which the images of 
objects beautifully correct in all their delineations of 
form and coloring, are literally painted by a sunbeam 
dipped in the hues of heaven, not like the fleeting image 



178 



'of a mirror, but durable as the colors of an Angelo or 
a Titian. 

Page 21, second line from the bottom. 

Like that bright bird in miniature whose song, &c. 

A humming-bird actually came to me while engaged 
in writing upon the mountain, which of course sug- 
gested the idea. 

Page 23d, Lines 7 and 8, 

Should have been marked as a quotation ; they are 
from Byron' 3 Monody on the Death of Sheridan, where 
he speaks of the creations of Sheridan's genius as 

* c Those wondrous beings of his fancy w r rought 
To fulness by the fiat of his thought." 

Book II., last Line. 
God's brightest, loveliest and last creation. 

There are some who contend that the laws of light 
are immutable, and therefore the rainbow must have 
existed before the deluge ; but if this had been the 
case, what evidence would it have been to the family 
of Noah that the world would no more be destroyed 
by a flood? As to the immutability of the laws of 
light, — He who made those laws has most assuredly 
the power to alter them, and it doubtless was as easy 
to make the necessary alteration to produce a rainbow 
as to create a sun or a world, or even to overwhelm 
that world by a deluge. 



179 

Book III., Page 82. 4th Line from the foot. 
Those people now appear to think it strange, &.C. 
RPfae morning that I commenced the poem, I remained 
some two or three hours on the top of the mountain, 
in consequence of which I attracted the attention and 
curiosity of the inmates of an inn contiguous; they 
came towards me, and I retired as described in the 
poem. 

Book 4th, Page 110, Line 6. 
And all the land with bankruptcy is curst, 

The observations here contained are not intended to 
apply so much to the effects of banking nere, as to the 
commercial explosions caused by the system in other 
countries. 

Book 4th, Page 120, Line 1. 
" Beyond the square," &c. — Wellington Square, 

Same page* Line 3- 

Port Nelson stands a desolate abortion. 

This and the accompanying lines are not intended so- 
much as a censure upon the individuals, whoever they 
may be, who attempted to found the village, but to 
illustrate the danger attending upon unwise specula- 
tions. 

Same Page, Line 9. 
•* Great names to little things are oft applied. 5 ' 

Some twelve years ago, there was a meeting at 
Streetsville, tor the purpose ot cutting a road across the 



180 

country from the town of Guelph (which had lately 
been founded by the Canada Land Company) to the 
town of York, now the city of Toronto. 

The meeting was attended by the agent of the com- 
pany, the celebrated Mr. Gait. After the business of 
the meeting was over (the object of which, by the way, 
was never accomplished) they dined, and after the cloth 
had been removed, the author's father, among oihers, 
took occasion to address the meeting, when he spoke 
of the advantages which were then expected to be derived 
to the province by \he operation of the Canada Land 
Company. He also took a complimentary notice of 
the literary talents and reputation of their distinguished 
guest, and also of his popularity in this country, which 
was then unbounded, as an instance of which they had 
begun to call their villages after his name ; and con- 
cluded by observing that he had been some time since 
jolting by the village of Gait, between Guelph and 
Dundas Street, in a waggon, accompanied by some 
friends, when he composed and repeated to them the 
following lines in reference to this subject: 

Great names to little things are oft applied, 
And some may call it vanity or pride ; ^ 
Ev'n be it so — they ne'er can be in fault 
Who to immortalize their village, call it Gait I 

And after the applause which this elicited had subsided, 
Mr. Gait observed " That he was not aware of there 
having been a poet in company." 

THE END. 



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